


Devil Doms

by joonie_beanie



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, BDSM, Bathtub Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, Floor Sex, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, Marking, Massage, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Predator/Prey, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Somnophilia, Tail Sex, Teasing, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacles, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, probably gonna dump all my obey me thirst here, will add new tags as chapters are added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 75,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonie_beanie/pseuds/joonie_beanie
Summary: A collection of Obey Me! smut, featuring different Reader pairings!Chapter 14: Solomon needs help obtaining some "nectar" for a spell he wants to try, and asks you for your assistance.Unbeknownst to you, the so-called nectar he needs isn't from a flower at all.
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Barbatos/Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub/Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 580
Kudos: 5576





	1. Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first smut I've written in a long while, but I love these stupid fake boys, and have sinful thoughts about them. So, I'm taking it upon myself to write sin for all to enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is...particularly tempting to me.
> 
> *sweats*

**Pairing** : Lucifer x Reader

 **Word Count** : 3,026

 **Preview** : Alcohol leaves the Avatar of Pride a bit less up-tight than usual, which leads to admission of some feelings, and...a bit more.

_“I’d be okay with you being selfish. As long as it’s for me—and not just because you’re drunk.”_

_“I’m far from drunk, I assure you. I know exactly what I’m doing.”_

* * *

Lucifer is…tipsy.

If you asked him, he’d deny it, and act no different than usual. He’s sure that if he had to, he could pull himself together, but…he’s definitely not his regular self.

And it’s all thanks to Mammon.

Sure, Diavolo had been the one to offer him a taste of the coveted, Devildom brewed moonshine—one with a proof so high that it would likely kill a human with a sip—but he knows the original mastermind behind this plan is none other than Mammon.

Lucifer isn’t sure how stupid Mammon thinks he is, but the Avatar of Greed hadn’t exactly been discreet when he’d pulled Diavolo aside upon their arrival and whispered something in his ear.

The future Ruler of the Devildom had decided to throw a masquerade for all of his closest acquaintances, which meant he had invited all occupants of the House of Lamentation. Lucifer had assumed that one of his brothers (more than likely Mammon) would try _something_ during the party, but he hadn’t expected his brother to convince Diavolo to help get him drunk.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Diavolo is a fan of seeing different sides of him, so he’d agreed to go along with Mammon’s plan. And Lucifer was more than certain that Mammon—that little bastard—had specifically chosen Diavolo to play a roll, knowing Lucifer wouldn’t be able to turn down his offering.

So now here he is—feeling a bit warm in his cloak, and suit. Around him, people are dancing—women with their arms wrapped around their partners necks, and men with their hands on their partners waist—

\--A familiar figure across the room catches his gaze, and without thinking he struts forward—

But some men’s hands are dipping a bit too low.

“Excuse me,” Lucifer speaks up, a very fake, and obviously malicious smile spreading on his face. “I’ll take it from here.”

The fellow demon—apparently realizing who he is—doesn’t stick around to argue. Satisfied, Lucifer steps in and continues the dance.

You sigh with relief as Lucifer rests his hand appropriately on your waist.

“Your timing is impeccable,” you tell him honestly, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Lucifer wonders if it’s the alcohol that has his heart beating a bit faster, or the radiant glow on your face as he holds you.

“I noticed your partner was getting a bit too…friendly,” he responds, frowning. The tempo of the song picks up, and Lucifer takes the lead—spinning you around and pulling you a bit closer. Unlike with the previous man, you seem comfortable him—your eyes creasing happily behind your white masquerade mask.

It offsets your black dress—perfectly fitted in all the right places (you’ll have to thank Asmo later)—but Lucifer personally thinks the combination is stunning.

“If any man at this party touches you intimately—come to me. I shall take care of it,” Lucifer tells you seriously. He expects you to roll your eyes, or tell him you can take care of yourself, but instead…he sees your skin flush a bit.

“I mean…aren’t we a bit…intimate right now?” you ask, voice shy. Blinking, Lucifer wonders what you mean by that, until he looks down and realizes that he has unconsciously pulled you even closer during the dance—your chest pressed against his.

…he’s seriously going to kill Mammon later.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, sighing at himself and creating some distance. “I had something to drink earlier, and I’m…”

“Feeling a little touchy?” you respond, a teasing tone to your voice. Lucifer cocks an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward.

“I was going to say that I’m not myself at the moment, but sure.”

Just then, the song ends, and the two of you slow to a stop. For a few seconds, the two of you simply stare ate each other—your hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, and his hand on your waist. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You look like you may want to say something—but you don’t.

So, Lucifer reaches down and takes your other hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you for the dance,” he says.

Your fingers begin to slip from his grasp as he turns to walk away, but you don’t let him get far. Reaching out, you grip his hand tightly.

Curious, Lucifer turns back to face you.

“I…,” you start, your cheeks pink with embarrassment. For a moment, you can’t even look him in the eye.

“If…if it was you, I’d be alright with it.”

Perhaps the alcohol in his body is causing his brain to work a bit slower, or perhaps he simply wants to hear you clearly state what you mean by that, but—

Lucifer steps closer, his hand moving to your waist and guiding you back to him. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you so embarrassed before—gaze looking everywhere but him.

“Are you sure you’d be alright with that?” he questions, his other hand lifting between you. He gently crooks a finger beneath your chin, and your eyes finally meet.

“If so, then say it.”

“I’d be okay with you touching me,” you tell him, and for Lucifer that’s all he needs to hear. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of the ballroom. The music and chatter are left behind as he guides you through the halls of Diavolo’s castle.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so hot and flustered. Maybe it had been the atmosphere of the party, or simply the way Lucifer had treated you while dancing that had elicited such a response from you. After all, this wasn’t a revelation or anything—you’d figured out a long while ago that the Avatar of Pride…made you feel a certain type of way.

Offering to hold your hand in scary moments…slight touches here or there when he was proud, or even a bit playful. Eventually, any sort of affection from him had caused your heart to skip a beat. You hadn’t exactly planned on _telling_ him about your feelings, but…obviously tonight you were both being a bit more honest with yourselves than usual.

“How--,” he begins, his deep voice smooth, and enticing as always. Lucifer has led you into one of the many rooms in the castle—your back pressed flush against the door, with him towering over you. “—would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…want you to touch me however you like,” you respond after figuring out the right words to say. Lucifer hums thoughtfully, his gloved hand moving to grip your thigh where your dress is slit. Immediately goosebumps raise on your skin, and Lucifer takes note—a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Are you sure of that?” His fingers skim against your skin—dragging higher up your leg. “I may be a bit more selfish than you were expecting in this regard.”

“I’d be okay with you being selfish,” you respond with a breathless laugh. “As long as it’s for me—and not just because you’re drunk.”

At that Lucifer can’t help but laugh as well. “I’m far from drunk, I assure you. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Before you can think of a comeback, Lucifer’s lips are on yours. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut, and your arms lift to wrap around his neck. Lucifer watches your actions through half lidded eyes, his hand subtly moving to caress the inside of your thigh. Instinctively, you part your legs for him—granting him more access, and the demon debates scolding you.

However…as long as it’s for him, he supposes he doesn’t mind.

Lucifer steps forward, his knee moving between your legs in place of his hand—and when he purposefully presses it up against your womanhood—

“ _Mm--!_ ” you gasp, the sound muffled by Lucifer’s lips. Perhaps thoughtlessly, your body moves downward—trying to grind against his thigh, and the Avatar of Pride realizes his slacks are starting to feel quite tight.

Reaching up, he cups your cheek with one hand and grasps your covered breast with the other. Any moan, whine, or otherwise is swallowed by his tongue. And when Lucifer finally breaks the kiss and leans back to look at you, the sight before him has heat spreading through his limbs like a wildfire.

You’re panting, lips shiny and pink, and eyes blown out with lust. Experimentally, he squeezes your breast and grinds his knee upward at the same time. Immediately your eyelashes flutter, lips parting and head angling back against the door in pleasure.

Lucifer’s Adam’s apple bobs against his throat.

Whatever control he’d been holding onto is now gone.

“Let me have you,” he breathes against your lips. There a hint of desperation in his tone—one that you’ve never heard from the Avatar of Pride before—and it makes you feel quite hot.

You lock eyes with him, and nod without a hint of hesitation.

In a flash, you’re on the bed across the room. Lucifer is at the end of the mattress, looking very much like a predator stalking its prey. He pulls his leather gloves off with his teeth, and discards them at the foot of the bed along with his cloak. Your eyes never leave him—watching his every movement, and he’s very aware of that.

A devious sparkle in his eye, he reaches forward and runs his hands up your legs. His touch sends a shiver up your spine—his fingers oh-so-gently making their way up your claves, and to your knees. Once there, he hooks one hand beneath your knee and presses it up towards your chest. You flush red at the compromising position—knowing your panties must be wet.

However, if they are, Lucifer doesn’t stop to tease you. Instead, he leans down, his lips meeting the skin on your inner thigh. Languidly, he kisses his way up towards your womanhood—each touch of lips causing your pussy to throb.

And just when he reaches your panty-line, his mouth barely an inch from where you want it to be—he stops. You can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips, and Lucifer chuckles.

“Did you think I’d let you get what you want so easily?” he chides, moving forward. You’re face to face again—the demon nestled between your parted legs, and you can feel his clothed erection on your lower stomach.

“I didn’t think you’d be a tease, since you obviously want it too,” you respond, breath hitching in shock as Lucifer suddenly slides the straps of your dress from your shoulders—your breasts spilling out into the hot air between your bodies.

“As much as I’d love to give into instinct and fuck you until the bedframe breaks--,” a wanton sound bubbles into your throat at the idea, “—I still want to play with you a bit more.”

Immediately, Lucifer’s mouth latches onto your breast—his free hand moving to fondle the other. His tongue flicks over your nipple, and with every lick, you flinch beneath him—your hips rolling against his own.

“Hng--!” you gasp when he suddenly squeezes your breast harshly. Immediately your hips cease their grinding, and Lucifer’s grip lightens. You pant beneath him—his point made.

You’re not allowed to rush this.

And so, Lucifer fondles your chest for what feels like forever—his tongue, teeth, and hands working at the soft flesh. If you could cum from your breasts being stimulated, you’re sure you would’ve gotten off at least twice by now.

“ _Lucifer_ ,” you whine, one of your hands lifting to card through his hair. He doesn’t stop, but his dark eyes open and peer up at you. His gaze is heavy—lust-filled.

“Please,” you say, and his mouth lifts off of you.

“Please what?”

You feel your face heat up once more, but the arousal pooling between your legs outweighs the embarrassment of telling him what you want.

“Please fuck me. Please, I need it.”

Lucifer pushes himself forward, his lips finding yours in a tease of a kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“I want you to have me, Lucifer,” you respond without pause, your hands lifting to cup his face. You drag him back in for another kiss—and he can sense the desperation on your lips. Despite himself, he moans against you.

The sound urges you on, your hips grinding up against him once more. He bites your lip in retaliation, but doesn’t stop you. Instead, he breaks the kiss, leaning back. Quickly, undoes his belt and works to shed himself of his slacks. It doesn’t take long before he’s bared from the waist down—his black hair disheveled, and the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

You’ve never seen anything so sexy before.

“Oh, fuck. Stop teasing,” you tell him when he leans forward and rubs his cock against your clothed pussy. You bite your lip—seriously too on edge to handle waiting any longer—and Lucifer chuckles.

He supposes he’ll give into you just this once.

Reaching down, he moves your panties to the side. Your folds are glistening for him, and his cock jumps at the sight.

One of Lucifer’s hands moves to brace your thigh—the other grabbing his length as he rubs it against your pussy. When the head of his cock moves against your clit—the bud far too sensitive thanks to his previous teasing—you gasp. Your hands fist in the sheets beneath you, and Lucifer repeats the motion several times—reveling in the way jolt with each touch.

However, just when you’re about to scold him for teasing you more, your feel his cock press between your walls. Your eyes go wide—because god, he’s not exactly small—but the feeling of him stretching you open is second to none.

After a few seconds, your hips are flush together—your pussy throbbing around Lucifer’s cock. He watches the rise and fall of your chest—your back arching off the sheets. He pauses for a second, giving you a short period to adjust, before he rocks back and then in again.

The pace Lucifer sets is slow to start—the drag of his cock between your walls heavenly. He rests his free hand on your lower stomach, his thumb reaching down to rub at your clit.

“ _Mm,”_ you moan, your walls tightening around him as continues to rub circles against the aching bundle of nerves.

“Lucifer, more, please,” you whine, one of your hands lifting to grab his shirt. He allows you to drag him in for a kiss, and the second your lips meet, he fulfills your request.

Your cry is muffled against him—lewd, wet sounds filling the room as he nearly doubles his pace.

Lucifer is the first to break the kiss, and you fall back again the mattress. You keen, one hand returning to fist in the sheets while the other takes hold of his dark hair. He watches you with passion burning in his eyes—soaking in the sight of you.

The swell of your breasts—your prettily parted lips. Your flushed cheeks, and the way your legs twitch at every thrust.

Fuck.

A moan threatens to escape you as Lucifer pounds into you particularly hard—his thumb still working at your clit. With every passing second, you feel pleasure pooling in your gut—like a wire gaining tension and threatening to snap.

“L-Lucifer,” you manage to speak, and his eyes flit to your face. “I’m—I’m getting close.”

“I am as well,” he responds, and briefly pauses in his rhythm. You blink, wondering what he’s doing as he grabs your hips and adjust your position ever so slightly. However, the second he thrusts into you a moan leaves your lips; you don’t mind that he had stopped.

“There it is,” he chuckles, and you hate him in that moment. Grinning above you—his cock dragging you into the depths of pleasure with every stoke. How dare he.

“Fuck, Lucifer--!,” You gasp, your skull thrown back against the mattress. Every movement has the bedframe creaking, but at the moment neither of you care about how much sound you’re making. You’re both too close to climaxing to think of anything else.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he tells you, and you’re helpless to obey. The tension in your gut spills over, and you lose it. With a cry, you come undone around him.

The feeling of your pussy pulsing around cock, and the fucked-out look on your face as you cum is enough to get Lucifer there as well. With a grunt, he thrusts into you one last time—a bit breathless as he empties his load inside of you.

For a minute, the only sound in the room is that of your and Lucifer’s panting. You lock gazes once your highs have subsided.

Without any exchange of words, he leans down and kisses you between your eyebrows—his softening cock slipping out of you at the same time.

“Do you think the others have noticed that we’re gone?” you giggle after a beat of silence, and Lucifer breathes a laugh.

“With all the people at the party, I would think not. But…then again…,” he pauses, sitting back. His eyes rake your disheveled form, and he quietly stores the sight in the back of his mind. “Considering he tried to get me drunk, Mammon may have.”

“Well…if he did notice, it will be kind of like revenge, right?”

Lucifer cocks an eyebrow at you. “Explain.”

“Despite saying he hates me, he’s obviously a bit…protective.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes at your wording.

“So, if he realizes both you and I were gone together…he’ll think that something happened—which it did, but he doesn’t need to know that—and get jealous.”

Lucifer stares at you, considering the idea. Then, with a chuckle, he leans in to kiss you once more.

“What a devious girl.”

“You like it,” you retort, whispering against his lips. “And me.”

“True,” he responds, and cups your cheeks between his palms. His eyes sparkle playfully. “And that’s why I won’t be sharing you with anyone else.”

* * *


	2. All Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a brat, the idea of making Mammon jealous is very tempting to me.
> 
> That is all.

**Pairing:** Mammon x Reader

 **Words** : 3,825

 **Summary** : Mammon's brothers decide to play a prank on him by getting handsy with you. I mean, how could that plan possibly go wrong?...right?

_"M-Mammon, it was just a joke--"_

_“ **I’m** supposed to protect ya while you’re here. I was the first one you made a pact with. You're **mine**."_

_"I..."_

_"Say that you're mine."_

* * *

Mammon is not jealous.

Why would he ever be jealous—especially over _you._ You’re just the stupid human he’s been tasked with taking care of during your stay. Any time he craves seeing you, or texting you…that’s just because it’s a part of his duty— _NOT_ because he actually likes you.

The thought of liking a dirty human makes him sick to his stomach.

Striding up the hall, Mammon nods to himself, crossing his arms satisfactorily.

That’s right, you’re pretty much nothing to him. Even if you have a pact, he’d agreed to it out of pity. Ya know, since you’re a weak human in a world full of demons. If Mammon wasn’t around to protect you, then who would be.

That’s all there is to it.

…or so Mammon _desperately_ tries to convince himself.

However, his brothers know differently.

They’re very much aware that Mammon likes you more than he’d care to admit…and that’s why they decide to prank him.

On your way back from class that day, Asmo had pulled you aside. He’d whispered the plan he and the others had come up with into your ear, giggling all the while. Apparently, lately Mammon had been bothering them all more than usual, so they wanted to have some fun with him.

So, on behalf of the others, Asmo had asked for your consent and cooperation.

 _“Tonight, Lucifer will be out with Diavolo, so pranking Mammon during dinner will be perfect!_ ” he had told you, all smiles. _“All we need is for you to let us be a little…friendly with you_.”

The twinkle in his eye had been a bit mischievous, but despite your worries you had agreed. You’d been living in the House of Lamentation with them all for a while now, and felt comfortable. It’s not like they were always handsy with you, but you’d gotten used to occasional hugs, and holding of hands. Sharing a bit of skinship with them had become the norm, so letting them be “friendly” with you during dinner shouldn’t be much different, right?

Whistling to himself, Mammon struts into the dining hall, feeling quite satisfied. He’s looking forward to a good meal, without drama, and—

His eyes fall on the table in the center of the room, and there’s the sound of glass shattering somewhere in his mind.

Exactly what the fuck is happening.

“Hey, be careful,” Satan speaks, his hands reaching forward to grasp your waist from behind as you lean over the table—attempting to reach a pitcher of water.

“Sorry, thanks,” you respond, and Satan helps guide you back until you’re fully on your feet—the pitcher safely in your grasp. He flashes you a handsome smile and then releases you.

Mammon glares daggers at his brothers across the room, and doesn’t move to join. The others obviously haven’t noticed him yet, so he decides to hang back and try and regain the clarity he had established within himself just moments before entering.

There’s no reason he should lose his cool just because one of his brothers is touching you. You’re just a pesky human.

Taking a deep breath, Mammon desperately attempts to smother the uncomfortable feeling knotting in his chest. However, unbeknownst to him, his brothers are very aware that he’s watching them. After all, why would Satan go out of his way to grab you, if not to get under Mammon’s skin?

“Hey, Y/N, will you pass me a slice of cake? I feel like starting off with something sweet,” Asmo speaks up, and you survey the dishes on the table.

“I think the cake is still in the kitchen,” you respond, pressing to your feet. You flash him an innocent smile. “I can go grab it though.”

“Oh, you’re such a dear!” he responds happily, his bright eyes watching you carefully as you brush past the table and into the kitchen. You return just seconds later, the chocolatey cake held in front of you, and Asmo bustles with excitement as you return to the table.

“That looks so delicious!” he exclaims, watching as you set the platter down in front of him. Yet, after a second his gaze shifts from the cake to you, and his arm reaches out. He splays his fingers against your hip, and he pulls you a bit closer. Surprised, your eyes widen and you glance back at him. He grins cheekily, and leans forward—his cheek nuzzling against your side.

“You look more delicious than the cake, though. Can’t I just eat you instead?”

“ROLF! That sounds like a line from a game,” Levi butts in, his phone in one hand and his fork in the other. He doesn’t even look up from the game he’s playing until Asmo speaks again.

“Y/N is so cute though, Levi! I mean, can’t you just imagine her as a cute character in one of those naughty games of yours?”

At that, the resident otaku raises his head, his gaze shifting over to look at you. Asmo still has you in his grasp, and he turns you to face the third oldest brother—his hands moving to cinch your loose-fitting uniform at the waist. Immediately, curves that you usually don’t flaunt appear for all to see, and Levi’s cheeks go pink—reflecting your own.

Sure, you had agreed to letting them touch you in order to help prank Mammon, but now even _you’re_ embarrassed.

Speaking of…

You turn your attention away from the demons around the table, your eyes scanning the room for any sign the Avatar of Greed. After a moment, you spot him in the entrance way—horns beginning to rise up through his white hair. His blue eyes are almost glowing, and you’re not quite sure you’ve ever seen him so seriously riled up before.

A bit scared, you raise one of your hands—placing it atop Asmo’s and giving it a little squeeze. Curious, the Avatar of Lust blinks up at you, and when he sees that your gaze is pinned across the room, he looks over as well.

Asmo has just enough time to see Mammon’s fist hit the wall, before the second eldest demon is gone from the doorway. The other occupants of the room jolt in surprise at the sound of the wall cracking, and the chandelier overhead begins to sway ever so slightly.

“Perhaps…we took that a bit too far,” Satan says with a sigh, turning back to his plate.

“You guys should have just focused on eating,” Beel says between mouthfuls of food. He’d chosen not to play along, especially considering there was entire table of food laid out before him.

Disappointed, Asmo releases you, pouting to himself.

“Eeeehh? I thought it was fun!”

“Fun as it may be, I don’t really want Mammon trying to decapitate me in my sleep,” Levi responds in a mumble, poking at his plate. You bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes straying to where Mammon had been standing.

“I should go check on him,” you say, guilt weighing heavy in your chest. You move away from the table, but Beel—who you’re now closest to—quickly reaches out and grabs your wrist. He shakes his head at you when you glance back at him.

“Don’t.”

“It wouldn’t be wise to go after him now. I would leave him alone for a while so he can cool down,” Satan explains. It doesn’t sit right with you—leaving Mammon alone when he’s clearly upset—but you listen.

The five of you finish up dinner and go your separate ways. When you’re alone in your room, you attempt to distract yourself with studying, and homework. And when your brain feels like it might melt, you decide to take a shower, and pamper yourself. Anything that can take your mind off Mammon—even if only for a little while.

At some point, the clock strikes midnight, and you find yourself awake in bed—brain too full of thoughts for you to be able to sleep.

“It’s late,” you whisper to yourself, rolling onto your side. “I can talk to him about this in the morning…”

Momentarily convincing yourself that everything will be fine, you finally manage to fall asleep.

However—

**_KNOCK KNOCK_ **

Your eyes snap open, arms moving to press yourself up as your heart beats harshly against your ribs. Your gaze snaps to your D.D.D., the phone reading 3:07AM.

Who the hell would be knocking on your door at 3AM?

“Oi!”

You startle, eyes flitting to the opposite end of the room.

Mammon?!

Despite the ungodly hour, Mammon isn’t attempting to be quiet at all. He’s about as loud as he always is, and you hurry out of your bed.

“Open u--!” he begins to call, but you make it to the door before he can finish. As soon as you’re face to face, the Avatar of Greed cups your cheeks with his hands and smashes your lips together.

You gasp in shock, definitely not having expected him to do that—and Mammon take that opportunity to deepen the kiss.

One of his arms moves to wrap around your waist—pressing you flush against him. Your tongues meld, and you can’t help the small, embarrassing sounds that leave you. Everything is just happening so quickly! Less than a minute ago you’d been fast asleep, and now Mammon is gripping your ass and swallowing you up with his kisses.

He takes a step forward, and you both stumble backwards into your room. Mammon kicks the door closed, his lips never leaving yours.

By now, you feel like you’re drowning—heat creeping down your neck and spreading farther downward. You’re desperately in need of air as well, so you raise your hands and press them against Mammon’s chest, mustering a whine that you hope he understands.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss—a string of spit connecting you.

“Mammon,” you pant, searching his face with wide eyes. “What—”

“You’re mine,” he shoots back before you can finish, his head craning down to the crook of your neck. He kisses at the sensitive skin, his freed hand moving to splay on the small of your back—the other still possessively gripping your ass through your sleeping shorts.

“M-Mammon, it was just a joke,” you try to explain, a lewd gasp leaving your lips as he trails his tongue up your neck.

“ _I’m_ supposed to protect ya while you’re here. _I_ was the first one you made a pact with,” he whispers into your ear. His lips lock onto a patch of skin near your jaw, and you writhe. Yet, Mammon only sucks on the area harder, not allowing you to escape.

“You’re _mine_.”

Heat spreads through your limbs at his words—heart jumping.

“I…,” you try to find the words to say, but your thoughts are jumbled. You can feel something hard against your hip, and the way Mammon is now sucking, biting, and licking his way down your neck is driving you insane. Quicker than you care to admit, arousal is pooling between your legs.

“Say that you’re mine,” he speaks, almost a whine. Your heart feels like it may beat right out of your chest, with the way he’s begging. Despite all his teasing, and his dominance in this situation, he wants to hear your honest response. Not one he’s forcing you to give.

“I’m yours, Mammon,” you respond, your hand lifting to pet his white hair. Mammon draws back, a look of wonder on his face as he stares at you. You—who feels like a school girl admitting a crush, while also desperately needing to be touched at the same time.

“I’m yours,” you say again, smiling, and an excited grin overcomes him. He dives back in, capturing your lips once more and you squeal when he suddenly sweeps you off your feet.

He deposits you on your bed, his eyes alight as he slips his hands beneath the hem of your t-shirt. You shiver as the air of the room hits your torso—Mammon lifting your shirt until it’s just above your breasts.

“Shit,” he says, immediately reaching forward to squeeze the soft mounds. You mewl at the feeling, fingers curling into the sheets beneath you. And Mammon doesn’t stop there. He leans down, his mouth finding your collarbone and picking up where he left off. He kisses his way down your chest—pausing to nibble or suck on a certain spot every so often. By the time he actually gets to your breasts—his tongue flattening against one of your nipples and lapping at the perky bud—you’re desperate for _any_ kind of friction between your legs.

“Mammon,” you breathe, and his blue eyes meet your own. “I…I need you.”

You’re embarrassed beyond belief to admit it, but _god_ you want him inside of you.

“Oh?” he questions, his mouth popping off your breast as he sits back to look at you. There’s a playful gleam in his eye—one that tells you he won’t be giving into you that easily.

“Tell me how ya need me.”

His tone is serious, despite the grin on his face. A small part of you debates giving up—perhaps you’ll survive without admitting all the humiliating thoughts in your mind—but you’ve never been so horny before. If he doesn’t fuck you, you honestly might cry out of frustration.

“…why won’t you just fuck me?” you respond instead, still not quite brave enough or desperate enough to tell him what he wants.

Mammon laughs a little, leaning up to tease you with a soft kiss.

“Because ya let my brothers touch to you in order to piss me off. It’s only fair I embarrass ya a little before giving you what ya want, yeah?”

It’s clear to you that any anger he’d been holding onto had dissipated the moment you’d agreed that you are is. Now he’s just his greedy little self—cocky, and annoying, and infuriatingly handsome.

“I…I just…,” you struggle to be honest with yourself, your eyes trained on Mammon as he sits back and peels his sleeping tank-top over his head. You feel yourself salivating at the sight of his abs, and when he hooks a thumb under the band of his sweats—the outline of his cock visible against his thigh for all to see—you let go of any remaining reservations.

“I’m so _wet_ ,” you admit honestly, noticing the way Mammon’s gaze turns down to the space between your legs. Your sleeping shorts are a little tight, so you wouldn’t doubt that your arousal has managed to seep through the fabric.

“And I just need you inside of me. _Please_.”

“Well, if ya want me _that_ bad—”

All of the sudden you find yourself on top of Mammon, the Avatar of Greed laying smugly beneath you with his arms above his head. Your hips are flush, and you can feel his erection between your clothed bodies.

“—ride me, then.”

If you weren’t red before, you certainly are now, but…

Sucking it up—knowing what you want—you reach down and tug your shirt over your head. Mammon watches you with hunger in his eyes, his cock straining against his pants. He can see how desperate you are for him, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed.

Biting your lip, you look down at the V of Mammon’s hips, your fingers curling around the waistband of his sweats. A little hesitantly, you pull it downward, and after a few seconds his cock springs free. You reach for it without second thought, stroking his length in your hand, and Mammon moans beneath you.

“Fuck, Y/N…”

With his obvious arousal and satisfaction at being touched by you urging you on, you position yourself over him. With your hand holding him steady, you slowly sink down—the head of his cock pushing in between your walls, and your eyelashes flutter closed.

“ _Mm_ ,” you breathe, almost a whine. After a few seconds, Mammon’s cock is fully sheathed in your pussy, and you’re quite sure you’ve never been so full before. It’s _heavenly_.

One hand reaching back to brace against his thigh, you slowly roll your hips against him. Mammon’s mouth falls open, his hands reaching up to grab your waist.

“Oh, fuck.”

Laughing a little—slightly proud that you’re making him feel just as good as you are—you begin moving yourself faster. His dick feels so good—stretching you out and dragging between your wet walls. Every grind of your hips has your pleasure heightening, and your impending release inching closer and closer.

“Mammon,” you whine, beginning to pant with effort. You feel his grip on your waist tighten in response, his body thrusting upwards to meet your own. The sound that leaves you in response to his movement is perhaps the lewdest sound you’ve ever made, and Mammon _thrives_ on it.

Greedy hunger in his gaze, he begins fucking up into you, and you collapse forward—bracing your hands against his abs. Your thighs begin to shake, an overwhelming amount of pleasure pooling in your gut, but you find it in yourself to continue moving your hips.

However, Mammon takes the reigns as your strength begins to falter—thoughtless whines and moans slipping past your lips as he fucks into you. And the Avatar of Greed makes sure not to miss a single sound, or reaction that you give him. His blue eyes rake your body from top to bottom, soaking in every little thing. The blush on your cheeks, the fresh red marks adorning your body all the way from your jawline to your chest. The way your tits bounce at his thrusts, and the way your thighs twitch, your rhythm beginning to falter.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, hoping that you say yes, because honestly with your delicious pussy swallowing him up so nicely, he’s not sure he’ll last much longer.

You nod frantically, unable to form any coherent words on your tongue.

Reaching up, Mammon wraps his arms around you and pulls you down—your chests flush together. He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, and at the same time uses the new position to thrust up into you even faster than before. You whine around his tongue, fingers tangling in his hair as the tension in your gut suddenly boils over.

“ _Mm--!_ ” you cum with a cry, your hips twitching, and your pussy tightening around Mammon’s cock. The Avatar of Greed falters at the new pressure, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head as you force him to the finish line—a satisfied groan ripping from his throat.

A mess of heavy breathing and sweaty bodies, the two of you ride out your orgasms. After a minute, you feel Mammon’s cock slip out of you, and he reaches up to touch your cheek.

Tired, you crack your eyes open and look down at him. His eyes are bright—a smile on his lips.

“Mine,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss you. You breathe a tired laugh, returning the kiss.

“Possessive, aren’t you?” you joke, rolling off of him. His lips press into a pout.

“I mean…isn’t that in the title?”

You roll your eyes, supposing that it is. He _is_ the Avatar of Greed, after all. It makes sense that he’d be a little possessive.

“Are ya just gonna sleep?” he asks, scooting up behind you and peeking over your shoulder at your face. You’re already half asleep, from the looks of it.

“You woke me up, Mammon. And knowing that we’re alright, and after… _that_ , I’m really tired.”

“Fine, fine~ I won’t stay then. I’ll let ya sleep in peace,” he says, but when you don’t feel him move, you crack an eye open and glance back at him. He’s pouting again.

“One more kiss?”

Smiling, you beckon him forward, and your lips meet once more. Mammon pulls back with a cheeky smile, and finally moves off the bed. By the time your door clicks shut a minute later, exhaustion has overtaken you, and you’re fast asleep.

* * *

In the morning, you awake to a knocking on your door. Groggy, you throw your arm out and manage to locate your D.D.D on the nightstand. At seeing the time, you jolt awake.

8AM?? Your alarm was supposed to have gone off at 7! Had you forgotten to set it?!

“Y/N?” a deep voice calls out, and you immediately recognize the voice as Lucifer’s.

 _Oh god, I’m so dead_ , you think to yourself, scrambling out of bed. When your feet hit the floor, you shiver and look down at yourself. You blink, realizing you’re naked, and suddenly memories from last night come flooding back to you.

You and Mammon--! You’d--!

You flush bright red, scrambling to find something to dress yourself in as Lucifer knocks on the door once more.

“Y/N? You missed breakfast—are you alright?”

“I—yeah, I just forgot to set my alarm, I guess!” you call back, finally finding your long sleeping shirt. You have just enough time to pull it over your head before the Avatar of Pride speaks once more.

“You sound a little flustered…are you sure everything is alright?”

Before you can respond, your foot snags the corner of your bed and you tumble to the floor. Immediately Lucifer is concerned.

“Alright, I’m coming in,” he says, and you clamber to your feet.

“I’m fine!” you yell, appearing in the crack of the door just as he’s opening it. You force a smile at him. Lucifer cocks an eyebrow, very unconvinced, and looks you over. Your state of undress is a bit perplexing—he’s never imagined you to be one to sleep with nothing more than a t-shirt on, but—

At that moment, he spots something, his eyes training on your neck. Lucifer reaches a hand up, and when you move to hide behind the door—realizing what exactly it is that he has likely spotted—he speaks up.

 _“Stay_ ,” he tells you sternly, and you’re unable to meet his eyes as he brushes your hair to the side…revealing the long, and messy string of hickies on your neck. He follows the trail to the collar of your shirt, and tugs it down ever so slightly.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow when he notices it goes even lower.

“I was told,” he begins, his words stern, and dangerous. “That last night, my brothers played a prank on Mammon, which involved you. Yet, this morning, he was looking _quite_ self-satisfied at breakfast.”

At his words, you feel your face heating up, and immediately Lucifer knows that his suspicions are true.

“Get yourself ready for school. I will have Asmodeus bring you some concealer,” he says, and when you nod shamefully, Lucifer sighs and pulls the door closed. Once he’s gone, you press your back to the door and hold your flaming cheeks between your hands.

Thank god you were spared.

Mammon, however…

“ **Maaaamooonnn!”**

 **“** _EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!_ ”

…is not so lucky.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously had a mighty need to add that bit with Lucifer in at the end, sorry not sorry.
> 
> Also! Please feel free to leave a comment with your reaction. That shit makes my day a million times better, no lie.
> 
> Thanks for all the love so far :)


	3. Feline Charms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this chapter in itself could be a whole separate fic. Writing pwp is hard, as someone who likes plot. Alas.

**Pairing** : Satan x Reader

 **Word Count** : 5,753

 **Preview** : After sneaking into Satan's room to return a book for Mammon, you end up coming in contact with a charm that turns you into a cat. Everything starts off innocently enough, but...

_“Can you not feel it? The way your tail is wagging behind you—like you’re ready to pounce. Did you enjoy the outcome of me getting frustrated with you?”_

_"I..."_

_"If you admit it, I'll give you what you what."_

_"What do you think I want?"_

_“I think you want me to be rough with you. I never thought of you as the type to get off on being dominated, but I can see now that I pegged you wrong. You’d love to be used until you’re just a toy with no thoughts of your own, wouldn’t you?”_

* * *

This is all Mammon’s fault.

…as things usually are.

The Avatar of Greed had begged you for a favor; _“ya gotta take this book back to Satan’s room for me. He’s pissed because I haven’t given it back yet—but if_ you’re _the one who takes it, then at least you’ll make it out alive!_ ”

So, you’d agreed out of the kindness of your heart, and had made your way to Satan’s room. After knocking and receiving no response, you debated taking the book back to Mammon and telling him you had tried. Instead, you test the doorknob, and are surprised to find that it’s unlocked.

With all the precious books Satan treasures so dearly inside his room, he tends to lock the door when he’s not home. After all, the last thing he needs to deal with is another body-switching incident, or worse.

For a moment, you hesitate. You don’t want to invade his space without permission, but…all you need to do is take a few steps in, set the book down, and leave. What could possibly go wrong?

Pushing the door open, you cautiously pad your way into the book laden room. You fear that simply leaving the book on one of the many stacks won’t be obvious enough. It will likely blend in, and as annoying as Mammon is at times, you don’t want Satan to maim him.

So, you opt for placing the book somewhere more obvious—like Satan’s desk on the other end of the room. Making your way over, you place the book directly in the center of the flat wooden surface, and then rip a piece of paper out of the notepad resting nearby.

_A gift from Mammon –Y/N_

You smile at your own sense of humor, and set the note on top of the book. Turning, you begin to head for the door, but a flash of gold catches your eye. You pause, walking over to the source of the gleaming metal.

On top a pedestal is a book with a golden charm. You note that the charm is in the shape of a cat—almost like one you’d find hanging off a middle schooler’s backpack--and giggle to yourself.

Despite what Satan says, you know he has a soft spot for felines, and it’s adorable.

Reaching forward, your hands skim the soft white pages of the book. There’s an illustration of a cat in the middle of the page, and you have just enough time to make out the word’s “magic” “charm” and “water” before there’s a clicking sound behind you.

Panicked, you jump, and accidentally stumble—losing your balance. The only thing to help steady you is the pedestal, and you reach out to grab it. However, as you do, you touch the golden charm, and suddenly the world has gone black around you.

 _What the hell?_ You think to yourself, aimlessly reaching out. It feels like there’s fabric around you, and after a moment you manage to find some light ahead. Pushing your way through the darkness, you blink at your new surroundings.

It still seems like you’re in Satan’s room, but…everything is…much larger.

“Guess I forgot to lock it,” you hear the Avatar of Wrath mumble, and your blood runs cold. How are going to explain why you were snooping around in his room?! Returning a book is one thing, but clearly you’d done _something_ wrong _,_ because his room is about 5x bigger than before!

“ _Satan, I--_ ,” you open your mouth to explain, but the only sound that comes out is a…meow?

Blinking, you hold a hand up in front of you, but instead you only see fur, and a 5 squishy pink toe-beans.

“Oh? How did you get in here?” you hear Satan speak again, and suddenly a hand is tucking beneath your belly. You squeak in surprise, wide eyes turning up to face the blond man now holding you. There’s a perplexed look on his face, but he doesn’t seem mad.

“ _Satan, it’s me!_ ” you try to say, but again, the words come out as mewls. Satan frowns, leaning in closer.

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” he asks, and you vehemently shake your head. The clear side-to-side motion obviously surprises the Avatar of Wrath.

“Well, you’re a smart one, aren’t you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You nod, and Satan takes a few steps forward, placing you gingerly on top of his desk. You sit, staring up at him—so badly wishing you could just explain the situation. At least when he and Lucifer had switched bodies, they’d still been able to communicate.

Unsure what to do, Satan cocks his head to the side and stares back at you.

“Cats, as cute as they are, typically aren’t so…aware,” he mutters to himself. Reaching a hand forward, he rubs your head, and you immediately startle. However, after a second you realize how soothing the feeling is, and can’t help but lean into his touch.

Satan chuckles. “Feel good?” He moves to mess with the furry ears on your head, and you melt at the feeling, a purr rumbling in your chest uncalled upon. The sound startles you, and you know that you should really be focusing on the issue at hand—but _damn_.

“Y/N would likely be happy to meet you. She loves cats,” he muses to himself, and hearing your name manages to snap you out of it. You duck out from his grasp, taking a step back and staring at him sternly. Satan eyebrows raise.

“What?”

You lift your front paw and then slap it back down on the desk—something akin to a child stomping their foot in dissatisfaction. Satan looks positively bewildered.

Unsure what to do, he attempts to reach for you again, but you dodge his hand. As you do so, you notice the note you had left him nearby, and immediately dash over to it.

“ _Look!_ ” you cry, your desperation reflected in meow that leaves you. Curious, Satan glances over. He takes the small note into his hands, his eyes scanning over the words. His brows furrow, clearly wondering why the feline that had magically appeared in his room is so adamant about this note, but after a moment realization shines in his eyes.

He looks from the note, to you, and back again. Then, his eyes stray to the other side of the room, where the book with the golden charm is now laying face-down on his floor.

“…Y/N?” he questions, as if not believing it himself. You nod, your head hanging in both embarrassment and relief. You’re glad that Satan is smart, because if it were anyone else, you’re not sure they would have thought twice about your un-feline-like reactions.

Sighing, the Avatar of Wrath brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess…you came to return Mammon’s book for him because he’s a coward, accidentally touched the charm on the other book, and now you’re a cat?”

You meow your affirmation, and Satan shakes his head—a tiny chuckle sneaking past his lips.

“Of course.”

Turning, he moves to pick up the book that obviously contains some sort of magic, and moves to sit in a chair nearby. Curious, you pad your way over to the edge of the desk and watch him.

“I just got this book recently. I knew that the charm hanging on it contained a spell, so I was being careful not to touch it, but…,” he trails off, and you feel your ears flatten in embarrassment. Satan notices, and reaches over to pet your head. Again, the feeling is strange to you, but not unwelcome. If anything, you want to sprawl out and let him run his hands over your fur, but…that seems a bit strange, even if you are trapped in the body of a cat at the moment.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll blame Mammon,” he says, trying to cheer you up, and it works.

Turning his attention back to the book, Satan quickly scans through the pages. Your curiosity gets the best of you as you watch him, and you daringly hop off the desk onto the arm of the chair. Satan blinks in surprise, watching you as you unthinkingly make your way onto his lap. You take a seat on his thigh, your innocent gaze peering up at the book, and he can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe I won’t turn you back,” he says, his fingers moving to rub your ears once more. “You’re very cute like this.”

You whine at his words, head turning to look at him. Your eyes are nearly begging, and despite himself, Satan lowers his book and bends down to kiss the top of your head.

If you were human, you’re sure your face would be the color of a tomato.

“I’m joking. Give me a few minutes to read. I haven’t gotten to the section about spell nullification yet.”

You nod, understanding, and patiently wait.

Sure enough, after a short while, Satan makes a satisfied grunt, and closes the book. You jump up in excitement, looking back at him. He responds by picking you up—cradling you against his chest as he begins to pad across his room.

“Unfortunately, it seems that I can’t break the spell. It will wear off naturally within the next 24 hours. However, according to the text, there is a way to lessen the effects.”

Your ears perk up curiously at that, your eyes taking in your surroundings as Satan leads you up a spiral stair case and to a part of his room you’ve never seen before. At the top of the stairs, you find a nook with another chair and another book shelf. Just beyond it is a doorway, and as he traverses the threshold, you note that the inside of the adjoining room is much cleaner—a perfectly made bed positioned against the middle of the far wall.

However, Satan doesn’t lead you to the mattress. Instead, he diverts to another doorway, and beyond it you find a bathroom. It’s spotless—a spacious, dark tiled shower located in the corner. The walls of the shower are clear glass, and Satan makes his way to the door—pulling it open.

You watch him eagerly as he reaches inside, turning on the water. Immediately droplets begin to rain down from the showerhead—and he places his hand into the stream, waiting for it to warm.

You meow up at him, wondering what he’s doing.

“Water, apparently, is an aid to nullification,” he explains.

After a few seconds, steam begins to fog up the glass walls, and Satan bends to set you on the ground.

“Go on,” he tells you when you stare up at him. However, your instincts are screaming at you to run away. You’re pretty sure it’s because you’re a cat—and cats hate water—but no matter the logic you try and convince yourself with, your body doesn’t move.

Satan frowns. “What?”

You shake your head, fur standing on end as you back away from the evil shower. Realization dawns on the demon, and he sighs—finally getting a bit irritated.

“You don’t want to go in the water because you’re a cat?”

You whine in affirmation, taking another step back. The Avatar of Wrath narrows his eyes.

Abruptly, he reaches down and grabs the hem of his green sweater. You stare in shock as he pulls the fabric over his head—his blond hair messy at the action. Next, he undoes his belt, and slips off his shoes and socks—tossing them to the side.

It’s in that moment that you realize what he’s planning, and without thinking twice, you make a break for the door. Seriously, if you were in your right mind, you would have just gotten in the shower. After all, it’s not like you want to stay a cat! But your feline nature is affecting your actions, and right now, warning alarms are sounding in your head.

“Oh, no,” he speaks up, closing the bathroom door in your face before you can escape. You bristle, turning and trying to find somewhere hide, but he scoops you up before you can. Satan holds you tightly to his chest, making his way back to the shower, and you push against him. Your claws draw lines in the skin on his chest, and he gives you a little squeeze in warning.

“Stop. Don’t make me punish you,” he growls, finally pulling the door to the shower open and stepping inside. You cry out as the hot water washes over you—struggling against him to break free and escape—but Satan has no intention of letting you go.

Your feel your claws sink into his skin once more, and you see anger beginning to seep onto his face—but before either of you can react, something happens. The world around you blurs, and when you regain your bearings, you find your face just inches from Satan’s.

He’s still holding you tightly, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that you’re…

Your cheeks flush deep pink as you experimentally move—feeling your wet breasts slip against his chest.

…oh god. You’re naked.

“Satan, I--,” you babble out, intending to apologize, but when you look back up, Satan captures your lips with his own. You startle, goosebumps rising on your skin as he loosens his hold on you—one of his hands moving to rest on your hip as the other moves to tangle in your hair.

“ _Mm_ \--!” you cry when he sternly yanks on the wet strands, effectively deepening the angle of the kiss. His tongue claims your mouth as his own—swallowing up your whines—and despite yourself, you begin to feel arousal swirl in your gut.

“I told you to stop. You didn’t,” he speaks after pulling back, his displeased emerald eyes boring into you.

You know from experience that Satan’s anger appears as if flipping a switch, but this is the first time he’s responded like… _this_.

“I…,” you blush, unable to look away. “I didn’t want to fight you, but my instincts…”

He stares at you for a few long seconds, his grip on your hair gradually loosening, before he sighs and releases you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching past you to turn off the water. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, blushing. Your arms raise and hug your chest—thighs pressing together—and suddenly Satan is turning red as well. For a second there, he’d forgotten that you’re, um… _ahem_.

“I’ll grab you a towel,” he says, pushing the shower door open and stepping out. He rummages around in a nearby cabinet and you hesitantly follow after him—stepping out onto the cold tile floor. When he turns back and notices you standing there, you note that his eyes do a quick rake of your body before he hurriedly averts his gaze.

“Here,” he says, holding the towel out.

“Thanks,” you respond, taking it from him. He idles for a moment, seemingly lost. And to be fair, you’re not quite sure how to act in this situation either. It’s not like you had ever expected to be naked in Satan’s bathroom after accidentally turning into a cat.

“I’ll, uh, let you dry off,” he eventually speaks, coughing, and turns to leave. You nod, waiting until he’s gone to start drying yourself off. You start with your arms—quickly brushing the towel down your front, and then your legs. It’s not until you move to run the towel down your back that you jump in surprise—a certain spot above your tailbone unexpectedly sensitive.

 _What the_ \--, you think, stepping in front of the mirror nearby. What you find causes a small cry to slip from your lips.

“Y/N?” you hear Satan question from the other room. Quickly, without really thinking, you reach for the nearest piece of dry clothing—shove it over your head—and then burst out of the bathroom.

“I have ears!!” you exclaim, appearing inside the bedroom in nothing but Satan’s sweater. “And a _tail_!”

The Avatar of Wrath stares at you with wide eyes, his brain trying to process the sight in front of him. If your outburst isn’t startling enough, seeing you standing there—barely covered by his shirt—definitely raises the stakes.

“I did say water would cure only _some_ of the effects,” he tells you, and it’s in that moment that you realize he’s standing just feet away from you in nothing more than a fresh pair of boxer-briefs. Your eyes drag down his toned torso, pausing when you notice a bulge in the fabric, angled against his thigh.

Satan notices where your looking, and is about ready to apologize again—making excuses regarding why he’s rock solid—when he notices that your tail is waving behind you. Pausing, he glances up to your face, and finds that your pupils are dilated as well.

Clarity washes over him, and a wicked grin spreads on his lips.

“Did you like it? When I kissed you in the shower?” he asks, posing a hand on his hip. The cocky look on his face catches you off guard. How is he able to so easily switch between being kind, and…sadistic.

“W-What? Why are you asking?” you retort, cheeks flushing pink. Your hands grip of the soft fabric of his sweater as he takes a step forward.

“Can you not feel it? The way your tail is wagging behind you—like you’re ready to pounce. Did you enjoy the outcome of me getting frustrated with you?”

You can feel your heart thundering in your chest—embarrassed, and nervous, but…the way he’s speaking also has arousal pooling between your legs.

“I…”

He’s bearing down on you now, one of his hands lifting to tenderly rub against your cheek. You can’t take your eyes off of him—watching his face carefully as he wraps his other arm around your waist, dragging you into him.

“If you admit it, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, his fingers lightly coasting up the skin on your face. You feel his touch on your ears—ears that are fuzzy, and usually not on your head—and the sensitivity of them has you gasping quite loudly.

You attempt to escape his touch (despite your instincts, which are currently screaming at you to let him continue, because _god_ it feels so good), but Satan isn’t letting you go anywhere. With his arm wrapped around you—you’re stuck. There’s no way you can beat him in a game of strength.

“What do you think I want?” you manage to respond, mustering up a bit of courage. It’s not in your nature to just let someone talk to you like that without teasing them back. Satan, however, is blunt with his rebuttal.

“I think you want me to be rough with you.” His fingers leave your ear, moving down to wrap around your throat. His grip is firm—not enough to choke you—but you still feel light-headed nonetheless.

“I think that despite attributing it to a natural feline reaction, you enjoyed the repercussions of our little chase in the bathroom.”

He takes a step forward, and your back hits the doorframe. Still, you’re unable to look away from him—his bright eyes full of unspoken promises.

“I never thought of you as the type to get off on being dominated, but I can see now that I pegged you wrong. You’d love to be used until you’re just a toy with no thoughts of your own, wouldn’t you?”

Your breathing has picked up now—fanning in hot puffs between your bodies. Each of his words causes sinful scenarios to bloom within your mind—and you feel your pussy clench around nothing—hot, and aching to be filled.

“But…if I’ve got it all wrong, just tell me to stop, and I will,” he says, taking a small step back. However, you don’t want him to stop. You desperately want more.

Without missing a beat, you close the gap he had created—your lips greedily capturing his own as you lift your hands to cup his face. Yet, as soon as you touch him, Satan is pushing you away—your back roughly hitting the wall behind you.

His fingers tighten around your neck.

“If you want more, I expect a verbal response.”

“Please touch me,” you respond, breathless. Satan leans in, your lips nearly touching, and he looks you in the eye.

“Tell me how. If I’m not satisfied, you won’t get anything.”

“I…,” your mouth feels dry—brain amiss with the amount of desperation currently afflicting you. You’ve never needed to be touched so badly before. If Satan doesn’t fulfill your desires, you’re not sure what you’ll do.

“I want—,” your words are cut off as a gasp involuntarily escapes your mouth. Satan’s other hand has found its way between your legs—two fingers rubbing between your soaking folds.

“D-Didn’t you just say I wouldn’t get anything?” you question, thighs clenching against his hand—desperate for more. He cocks an eyebrow at you, an infuriating smile on his lips.

“Does this really count as something?”

His fingers tease at your entrance, barely dipping into your pussy. Even if you think of grinding down to force him deeper, his hold on your neck prevents you from doing so—and you whine as he pulls his fingers away—simply continuing to tease your womanhood while neither touching your clit nor pushing his digits inside of you.

“I would suggest saying what’s on your mind, Y/N. You shouldn’t be a mindless slut just yet, considering I haven’t really touched you.”

His words have you feeling warm all over, but you decide to listen.

“I want you inside of me,” you say, starting off innocently enough. You’ve never verbally been lewd before—the idea of telling someone what you want them to do to you while they’re standing right there is a bit terrifying—but you know if you don’t start somewhere, you’ll never get what you want.

“I want you to finger fuck me until my knees buckle, and I’m begging you to let me cum.” You get braver with every word, and when you feel Satan’s cock strain against your stomach—trapped in the tight space between your bodies—a wave of satisfaction emboldens you.

“Your sweater smells like you—so very good—and I want you to rip me out of it. To punish me for wearing what’s yours without permission. I want your hands on me—pushing me down into your mattress and grabbing my hips as you fuck me with little regard for my own pleasure—only chasing after your own.”

Satan’s breathing is a bit gruffer now—his face burying against your shoulder as his hand drops away, coming to momentarily rest near your hip. You feel his canines scrape the flesh on your neck—his hand sneaking beneath the hem of his sweater and dragging upward—and goosebumps rise on your skin. Your confidence momentarily falters—a hot wave of arousal jumbling your thoughts—but you continue.

“I want you to have your way with me knowing that what I desire doesn’t matter. You’re in charge, and I have no say—just the way it should be. The Avatar of Wrath’s personal little pet.”

Without warning, he bites down on your skin—two of his fingers slipping inside of your pussy at the same time. A breathless whine escapes you—pain and pleasure mingling—and when you attempt to grind your hips down on his hand, he nips at you again.

Immediately you cease all movements, wincing at the sting, but you’d be lying if you said the pain didn’t turn you on. And Satan knows it does. He can feel your pussy clenching around him, getting even wetter as he soothes his tongue over the marks on your neck.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad--,” he speaks up, mumbling hotly against you, “—if you kept the ears, and tail. I could put a collar on you—let everyone know that you’re my personal property. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance—his lips moving to capture your own as his digits thrust between your walls. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, swallowing the moans that rip from your throat—his pace ruthless as he fingers fucks you. But he knows it’s what you want—your pussy positively drenched for him—lewd sounds permeating the room with each flick of his wrist.

His other hand finds your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly and causing you to whine. Satan’s touches are sure to leave you sore and bruised, but the idea of having marks to remind you of this moment for days to come is undeniably appealing.

“ _S-Satan_ ,” you gasp, your knees beginning to buckle. You’re already racing towards your climax—his fingers pressing into your sweet spot with every jab.

“Are you already going to cum?” he asks, placing an open-mouthed kiss against your jaw. Your head is spinning, but you manage to nod.

Satan hums. “Should I let you cum?”

“ _Please_.” Your voice is raw with desperation—your head pressing back against the doorframe as the dam holding your orgasm at bay threatens to collapse. Weakly, your hand raises to grab Satan’s arm—your fingernails digging into his skin.

He chuckles, placing a tease of a kiss against your jaw.

“Cum then.”

And you do—mouth opening into a silent scream as you release around his fingers. He pumps you through it—pace slowing to drag out the waves of pleasure. And finally, once you’re able to breathe again—your head slumping forward against Satan’s shoulder—he pulls his hand from between your thighs.

You feel him wipe his soaking digits on your leg, smearing your own juices against your skin. It’s an embarrassing realization—that you had drenched his hand with your arousal—but you don’t get long to think on it, because both his arms wrap around the backs of your thighs. He hefts you up—your arms instinctively raising to wrap around his neck as your legs dangle on either side of his torso.

You can feel his clothed erection pressing at your womanhood—and you realize that despite cumming—there’s no way you’re done.

“Don’t regret what you said earlier about letting me use you,” he whispers into your ear, and turns towards the bed. Within seconds, you find yourself thrown onto the soft sheets—the Avatar of Wrath flipping you onto your stomach.

There’s movement on the mattress behind you, and then Satan’s hands are reaching forward to grab your hips. He forces you onto your knees—dragging your ass backwards—and without warning, something quite large shoves between your walls.

“ _Mm--!”_ you bite your lip, fingers grasping at the sheets as Satan begins chasing his own release. His hips smack against your ass, rattling the bedframe with each movement, and despite yourself, pleasure begins building in your gut once more.

“Look at you,” Satan speaks, a little breathless. “So submissive, and perfect.”

You whine at his words, thighs shaking as the intensity of his love-making begins to overwhelm you. If it weren’t for Satan’s grip on your hips, you’d be slack against the sheets—twitching, and taking a much-needed breather.

But this isn’t about you. Right now, it’s about him, and you both know it. It’s Satan’s turn to do whatever he wants. It’s the least you can give him, considering he’d already let you cum, right?

“Do you think you can cum again?” he asks, and you shake your head no. He chuckles, one of his hands reaching around to toy with your clit. The stimulation immediately has you crying out—pussy tightening around him and forcing a grunt from his throat.

“Let’s see, shall we?”

The next few minutes are a blur—your mind spiraling into incoherency as Satan’s dick stretches and fills you in all the right ways. With his fingers rubbing circles at your clit, you’re brought back to the brink of orgasm quicker than you’d imagined—the pleasure beginning to tip into overstimulation.

“ _Please please please **please**_ ,” you chant, forcing yourself to clench around him. Satan groans, retaliating with a brutal thrust that has tears pricking at your eyes. You’re not sure if _you_ want to cum, or simply want _him_ to cum so you can finally catch your breath.

“ _Shit_ ,” he curses, beginning to fall apart around the edges. His fingers work at your clit even faster than before, and you choke on a cry—attempting to pull your hips away—but he doesn’t let you.

With a guttural moan tearing from your throat, he forces another orgasm from your spent body. You go limp—any remaining strength fading from your limbs, and Satan drags you back onto his cock a few more times before his pace falters, and he finds his bliss as well.

When his touch disappears from you, you immediately collapse onto your side—covered in sweat—your clit twitching with aftershocks. Your eyes are closed, yet they open tiredly when you feel a palm cup your cheek.

Satan is sat in front of you now, a tinge of concern showing in his emerald eyes. Since you can’t move, you simply lean into his touch, and he breathes a laugh.

“I tend to forget that humans are so fragile…”

“I’m not fragile,” you respond, smiling a little. “I’m just exhausted. You gave me the fucking of a lifetime—how am I supposed to act after an experience like that?”

There’s a beat of silence, and you glance up to find a perplexed look on Satan’s face. It’s almost as if he feels…guilty.

“Hey,” you speak up, catching his attention. You beckon him forward with a nod of your head, and Satan complies—scooting to lay next to you. Once close enough, you reach your arms forward and hug his head to your chest.

“I really enjoyed that,” you tell him honestly. “Please don’t feel bad.”

“I…it’s hard for me to control my nature, sometimes,” he admits, but relaxes into your embrace. “While it feels good to give in, I don’t like the idea that I did anything without your consent first.”

“I know that if I had asked you to stop, you would have. So, don’t worry, Satan. We’re fine.”

At your reassurance, he sighs quite loudly, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss against your breast.

“Will you stay here? Tonight?”

You laugh. “You would have been stuck with me either way. I can’t move at all right now.”

He snorts, his blond hair tickling your chin, and you continue thoughtfully. “Well, I guess you could have carried me back to my room. But then you run the risk of running into the others—and having to explain why I can’t walk _and_ have ears and a tail. And I don’t think you want that.”

“The others don’t get to see this,” he speaks up seriously, pushing onto his forearm and catching your gaze. “I want these moments to only be mine.”

His words cause a blush to spread on your cheeks, and you avert your eyes.

“That’s quite greedy of you. I thought you were the Avatar of Wrath, Satan.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Will you let them be mine?”

Shyly, you nod, and Satan smiles with satisfaction.

“I’ll get a wet rag, and some clothes for you to sleep in,” he says, and disappears from your side. You hear him padding around the room, but you’re too tired to move an inch. Eventually, you feel a warm cloth on your thighs, and a soft shirt being pulled over your head, but the minutes blur together. You’re exhausted, and as soon as Satan returns to his bed—his arm resting across your waist as he settles in beside you—you’re out like a light.

* * *

In the morning—

“Oi! Y/N!” Mammon’s loud call startles you as you step foot into the dining hall. He presses up from his seat, hurrying towards you. The other brothers are already gathered around the table—Satan included, and he watches the interaction silently.

“Where the hell were you last night? I went knocking at your door and you never came to answer. I thought Satan had killed ya!”

“LMAO but you were too scared to go to Satan’s room and check,” Levi butts in, causing Mammon to flush bright red.

“I ain’t scared ‘a him!” he denies, pointing a finger at the 4th eldest brother. Satan ignores the outburst, but from his side, Asmodeus hums happily. There’s a sparkle in his eye.

“I don’t know, Mammon, I would be. I could have sworn I heard Y/N screaming when I walked past Satan’s door last night~”

Asmo’s comment has heat creeping up your neck, but Satan’s response gives nothing away.

“She decided to stay and red a book from my collection. I realized she was getting to a scary part, and decided to play a prank on her. She didn’t really appreciate it.”

Six pairs of eyes turn to you expectantly, and you laugh—your hand rubbing at your neck.

“Sorry if I worried you…I’m really bad with scary things.”

There’s a look on Asmo’s face that tells you he doesn’t buy your excuse one bit, but nevertheless, he decides to roll with it.

“Ooo~ If that’s the case then I say we have a scary movie night soon! I want to hold Y/N in my lap and make her feel safe while watching~”

“That might be the most dangerous spot to be,” Belphegor mumbles, and Asmodeus feigns hurt. At the same time, immediately Mammon is yelling about how you’re under his watch, and no one is allowed to touch you but him. That draws responses of indignation from an array of people at the table, but in the middle of it all, Satan raises a hand to hide his smile.

His eyes meet yours, his emerald orbs flashing with something akin to mirth, and you know that even while the others argue about who has the right to touch you—from here on out, your most intimate moments will be reserved for Satan.

And that, you don’t have any problem with.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 6k later! Oof
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave your reaction, or a comment!! It really does make my day, and keep me motivated! c:


	4. Eroge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always kind of wanted to write a smut involving a tentacle monster. Finally, in the year 2020, Leviathan gave me a good reason to.
> 
> Listen, Levi is into it, and you can't convince me otherwise.

**Pairing** : Leviathan x Reader

 **Word Count** : 3,778

 **Preview** : You happen upon Levi at a bad time, and accidentally end up getting sucked into his video game. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that said game is a kinky eroge.

_“Can’t you get me out?!”_

_“Ah—um—it says that the only way to get a player out of the game is the make them—um—climax?"_

* * *

[ **New text from Leviathan** ]

 **Leviathan** : _Hey!! Come to my room today!! I need your help with a boss raid!!_

 **You:** _Okay!!_

* * *

“Levi!” you call out, knocking on his door. It’s close to 9pm, but he hadn’t texted you until a short while before dinner, and you’d already agreed to proof read Beel’s literature essay for him following the meal. You’d assumed that coming to Leviathan’s room whenever would be fine, but when you hear the Avatar of Envy startle from within—something crashing to the floor and a scream following—you wonder if now isn’t the best time.

“Ah! No!” he cries out, something else clambering onto the floor, and you knock on the door again.

“Levi? Are you alright?”

Without waiting for him to answer, you test the doorknob and push the door open when you find that it’s unlocked.

“N-No! Don’t come in! I--,” he begins to say, but quickly realizes he’s already too late when he sees your head pop through the doorway. Your eyes land on him. He’s kneeling beside his desk, face red as a tomato, and a few figurines, a bottle of…lotion?, and a controller scattered at his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask, hesitantly stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. Levi’s hands shake, his gaze turning down to the floor in front of him.

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” he nearly yells in response, hurriedly scooping up the items scattered across the floor. His eyes dart back up to you, and he spins on his knees, facing away before standing up.

You frown, wondering why he’s acting so weird.

“Is now a bad time? Maybe we can do the raid tomorr—”

“No!! It has to be today!!” he responds in a panic, his head whipping every which direction. After a second, he rushes to his bed and gingerly sets the figurines down. He then stands up, still facing away, and glances at you over his shoulder. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, his blush deepens.

“We can do it now! I just…I need to use the bathroom first!” he says, and stiffly walks to another door nearby. You watch him, concerned. You’ve seen Levi flustered before, but this is an entirely new level.

Still a little unsure, you slowly pad further into the room. After a few seconds, his monitor catches your eye, and you make your way over. On screen, there’s the start menu of a game. It’s pink, and twinkly—little starbursts shining all across the menu. However, there’s no title to the game, or no indication of what it’s about. The only options on screen are “Resume Game”, “Import Character & Continue” or “Quit”.

 _Well, if this is the game we’re playing, I might as well get a head start and make my character_ , you think to yourself, scooping his wireless controller off the ground. You take a seat in his green and black leather chair, figuring it’s not a big deal since Levi isn’t around at the moment.

Pressing the joystick down, you hover over the “Import Character & Continue” option, and then hit ✕. A text box pops up.

“ **Is the current player the one you would like to import?** ”

A “Yes” or “No” option appears, and you click over to “Yes”. However, as you as you confirm your choice, an electric tingle rolls over your entire body. You gasp, the controller falling out of your hands, and it clatters to the floor.

The sound manages to reach Levi—who is still hidden in the bathroom—and he opens the door slightly.

“Y/N?” he calls, “what was that?”

There’s no response, and Levi peeks his head out a bit farther. His eyes scan the room, and there’s no sign of you. Just his wireless controller on the ground beside his chair, and—

Levi notices the screen on his computer has changed, and his heart drops into his stomach.

“No no no no no no!” he panics, darting out of the bathroom and to his desk. He holds the monitor between his hands, orange eyes widening as the screen changes yet again—the level finally having loaded. Immediately—you appear on screen.

“Leviathan?!” you call out, scanning your surroundings. You’re no longer in the House of Lamentation, but what looks to be a city—or, more specifically, an alleyway within a city. Tall brick walls cage you on either side—a dead end behind you, and a street a few hundred feet ahead.

“Levi!” you try again, and this time you hear a response.

“Y/N!” it sounds like he’s far away—his voice echoing down the alley. You open your mouth—relieved to hear him—but he doesn’t sound calm at all.

“Why did you do that?! You stupid normie! Now what am I going to do?! Oh my _GOD_. OOOOO MY GOD—”

“Levi! What is going on?! Where am I, and why are you freaking o--?”

Before you can finish, a dark shadow begins to materialize out of the pavement in front of you. You startle, back tracking. Ever so slowly, the dark mass rises up—tentacle-like arms whipping out and dragging across the floor.

You stare in fear, gasping when you roughly run into the brick wall behind you.

“Levi!” you yell, frustrated at his silence.

“I— _UGH_. Okay! Listen! I was playing a game, and this is the final boss! You _totally_ came to my room at the _worst time_ \--!”

He’s half way between exasperation, and a whine, but you don’t have time for his rambling at the moment.

“What kind of game?” you interrupt, your eyes training on the abomination in front of you once more. By now, it’s no longer a dark shadow. The mess of slick limbs has taken on a purple hue—two large eyes appearing at the front of it’s torso.

“Um…”

Leviathan sounds more embarrassed than you’ve ever heard him before, and realization begins to dawn on you—both fear and arousal mingling in your gut.

“Levi…,” you speak again, your tone soft, and a little scared. The monster makes eye contact with you, and its tentacles begin inching forward.

“I—it’s—,” he struggles to admit the truth, but at this point you don’t need him to say it. You realize what he’d be playing: a very kinky eroge—in which the final boss is apparently a tentacle monster.

“Can’t you get me out?!” you ask, shivering as one of the tentacles begins curling up your leg. There’s the sound of a game case clicking open, and papers being flipped. You assume he’s reading the manual.

All the while, another tentacle reaches out and touches your wrist. You immediately jump away from the feeling, but the tentacle is persistent. It darts out—securing your wrist in a split second. You panic—attempting to pull free, but it’s clear that the monster is much stronger.

With little effort, it forces your arm above your head, and another tentacle darts out to capture your other wrist. By the time Levi’s voice returns to the space around you, both of your wrists are secured above your head by a single tentacle—your feet barely touching the ground.

In his room, staring at the screen, Leviathan swallows harshly. The tent in his pants twitches at the sight of you.

“Ah—um—it says that the only way to get a player out of the game is the make them—um— _climax_?”

His voice pitches high at the end. Clearly, he’s embarrassed to be saying it, and you don’t blame him. However, right now, you’re pretty sure that if either of you have the right to be embarrassed, it’s _you_.

“Do you…have a hand in completing the level?” you ask him when the monster begins to idle. As if on cue, a bold, white “LEVEL START” appears in the space above you. Levi’s hands tighten around his controller, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“I…”

You can hear many emotions in his voice—everything from shame, to regret, and maybe even a little bit of excitement. You sigh, your thighs rubbing together shyly. If it was up to you, you would have built an emergency escape option into the game, but since there’s clearly only one path to getting you out…

“It’s okay, Levi. I trust you.”

And it’s true. Despite the monster in front of you, it’s reassuring to know that at least Levi has _some_ control. And…it’s not like you’ve never seen anything involving a tentacle monster before. Like Levi, you enjoy anime, and at some point, had discovered hentai. You’d always felt shameful when becoming aroused while watching, but the idea of being stimulated so much at once is undeniably appealing to you.

So, while your current predicament wasn’t exactly planned, it wasn’t completely unwelcome either.

“Y/N, I…,” Levi sounds so torn. If he’s being honest with himself, he _really_ wants to play the level. And the fact that you’re willing to put your trust in him and let him play it a _huge_ turn on. However…if he had just been more careful, and hadn’t freaked out and left you alone, then you wouldn’t be in this predicament to begin with.

“Levi,” you speak up again, and he glances at his computer screen to find you smiling up at him. You send him a little wink, and while he can tell you’re still nervous, there’s an air of genuine reassurance about you as well.

“Have fun. I’m yours to use.”

And with that, Levi needs to hear nothing else.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips, heart thundering against his ribs, and his fingers tighten against the controller in his hands.

“ _Ittadakimasu_ ,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that reflects his hunger. You blush, realizing how turned-on he is by your words, but don’t have long to think on it. The tentacle wrapped around your leg inches up to meet your womanhood—rubbing it through your leggings.

You gasp, arms straining against their restraints, but of course it’s no use.

Behind you—perhaps purposely hidden, so you can’t see the words—an array of options appears.

✕ – Play with breasts

◯ – Rip off clothes

△ – Spank

□ – Fuck pussy

Levi reads through them quickly. All of the choices are tempting, but he doesn’t want to be too rough with you starting off.

His thumb hits the ✕ button, and a tentacle wiggles forward—curling around your waist and then wrapping around your breasts. You keen, thighs pressing together as heat begins threading through your limbs. Even while clothed, the sensation of having no control while being touched in your most sensitive areas is more arousing than you’d care to admit.

The tentacle at your chest curls around one of your breasts—squeezing, and tugging at the mound. Your other breast is prodded at by the round head of the purple appendage—attempting to locate your sensitive nipple through your clothing.

Again, an option appears on screen.

RB – Remove shirt

Levi’s finger hesitates over the bumper, precum beginning to pool against the crotch of his sweats. What he’s doing feels like a crime, but…your words of reassurance resound in his head, and he pushes the button.

In reaction, the tentacle at your chest momentarily stops its ministrations—diverting downward. The slimy arm sneaks beneath the hem of your t-shirt, crawling its way up between your breasts. And then, with a might tug away from you, it rips your shirt up the middle. Your bra is the only thing left shielding your chest away from public view, but it doesn’t stay in place for long.

Apparently part of a package deal with the “Remove shirt” option, the tentacle yanks the lacy white fabric away from your body—the garment disappearing from around you with a definitive _rip_. Immediately your breasts spill into the open air, and you flush bright red, realizing that this is the first time Levi will have seen any part of you so intimately.

Seated in front of the PC, the Avatar of Envy sets his controller atop his desk—prepared to push the buttons with one hand (no matter how lame of a gamer it makes him), while his other hand finally sinks into his lap. He palms himself through his pants, nearly moaning at the momentary relief. However, he doesn’t give into his desires just yet—his eyes still glued to the screen as the monster begins toying with your tits once more.

This time, with no fabric in the way, you’re feeling much more sensitive as the tentacle resumes its movements. The purple limb wraps around one of your breasts, pulling and squeezing the soft flesh, while the head of the tentacle swirls around your hardened nipple. You tremble at the feeling, managing to hold in any sounds that threaten to escape you…at least, until an additional tentacle hovers your neglected breast—the end of the limb opening like a pair of lips. It wastes no time locking onto your nipple—sucking harshly and causing a lewd gasp to escape you.

Finally, with two tentacles assaulting your tits, and a third still rubbing between your legs, you’re beginning to fall apart at the seams. Your breathing becomes unsteady—whines and moans rolling off your tongue as the monster continues to follow Levi’s commands.

While you can’t hear it, the purple haired demon’s breathing has turned rugged as well. His dick is so hard now that it’s painful, but he still doesn’t grant himself relief. Not yet, not like this.

“ _Levi_ ,” you moan, and you hear a quiet groan in response. The Avatar of Envy reaches down between his legs to pinch the base of his cock—stopping himself from cumming at the sound.

“Shit,” he curses to himself quietly, his eyes flitting back up to the computer when another round of choices appear.

✕ – Fuck pussy

◯ – Fuck mouth

△ – Fuck ass

□ – Other

Heat creeps up Leviathan’s neck as he reads through them. The game had been equally as blunt on previous levels, but now that you’re involved, he wishes there was some sugarcoating in place.

His pointer finger moves to hover over the ✕, but he hesitates. As he mulls over the many thoughts in his head, your moans reach his ears once more, and he immediately makes his decision. He won’t last if you continue sounding like that.

In game, you begin to whine his name—needing _something_ more, _anything_ —when all of the sudden your mouth is filled. You gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as a tentacle presses between your lips—the slick limb moving across your tongue. The monster fucks your mouth at a steady pace—testing the waters. You gag when the tentacle ventures a little too deep, and it seems like the game takes note—lessening the frequency in which it forces you to try and deepthroat.

However, each time you gag, your nipples and clit feel more sensitive than before. At this point, the lack of true contact on your womanhood is turning into torture, and you whine around the length in your mouth—your thighs rubbing together around the limb still sliding up against your pelvis.

Levi understand what you’re asking, and taps □. Instantly another line of options appear aside from the main ones, and Levi is relieved to find the one he’s searching for.

LT – Give oral

He hits the trigger, watching as the tentacle tending to your lower half pauses in its job. It reaches up to grab the waistband of your leggings, and in one fell swoop tugs them down your legs. You squeal at the sensation—eyes popping open and glancing downward, attempting to see what’s occurring.

You note an additional limb sliding across the ground towards you. It reaches up, curling around one of your legs, and hiking it off the ground. Suddenly, your pussy—shining with your arousal—is very much on display for Levi to see.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” you hear him groan, wishing you could see him. Knowing that what he’s doing to you is getting him off makes your pussy clench, and you wonder if that’s his plan. However, the tentacle that had been teasing you up until now doesn’t fill you as you expect it too. Instead, the tip of the tentacle peels open—a smaller appendage sneaking out of the opening.

To you, it looks similar to a tongue.

“Mmph!” you gasp when it licks between your folds—finally coming in contact with your aching clit. Your spine curves—hips pressing downward as tentacle pleasures you in earnest.

Tears prick at your eyes—the amount of sensations afflicting your body at once almost overwhelming. You mouth is full—tits being sucked, and licked, and squeezed—and now your clit is getting the attention it’s been so desperately craving. Really, it’s enough to drive you insane.

Eyes squeezing shut—your thighs shake as the pressure building in your gut threatens to snap.

“Please cum, Y/N,” you hear Levi beg—breathless. You’re not sure if you had been meant to hear his silent plea, but it’s enough to push you over the finish line.

You climax with a cry—the sound muffled by the tentacle in your mouth as its rhythm slows—sensing your release. The tongue between your legs continues licking—dragging as much pleasure out of you as possible—while at the same time the tentacles on your breasts give the mounds one last round of love.

By the time the waves of pleasure have diminished, your arousal is leaking down the inside of your thigh.

Above your head, a bold “LEVEL COMPLETED” appears in the air, and the tentacles begin to retreat. You breathe deeply as your mouth is freed—the slippery limbs uncurling themselves and returning to the main body of the monster. And—as soon as your feet touch the ground, and your wrists are released—the scenery around you shifts.

Levi’s hands scramble to grab you as you materialize beside him back in his room—your legs giving out as he does so. You slump against him, still struggling to catch your breath. You’re relieved that it’s over—you’re not sure how much more of that you could have taken—but you’re jumbled out of your serenity as Levi hefts you up so you’re seated on the edge of his desk.

“Levi?” you question, eyes darting up to his face. There’s a serious look in his eyes, and you watch in surprise as the Avatar of Envy shoves his sweats down his thighs—his cock weeping against his abs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swallowing your groan with a sloppy kiss as he slides his length between your walls. His voice is shaky—he’s been holding back for too long. “I need this. I n-need you. Please.”

“Fuck, _Levi_ ,” you groan, your pussy tightening around him as he begins chasing after his own release. His pace is quick, and sharp. It’s clear that he won’t last long. He had been waiting for this—for you—and while you know you won’t be able to orgasm with him—you can at least egg him on.

“You feel so good,” you speak, tits bouncing at the intensity of his thrusts. Your hands reach up to hug his skull—the demon’s breath hot against your neck as miniscule whines escape his throat. His grip on your waist tightens—blue colored fingernails digging small crescents into your skin—and with a few more snaps of his hips, he’s releasing inside of you.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he chokes, forehead pressing against your collarbone he rides out his bliss.

After a moment, he pulls back—his cock slipping out of you, and immediately his seed is sliding from your heat—mingling with your own arousal. The sight has you both turning a bright shade of red, and Leviathan begins to panic—his head whipping every which way in search of a towel, or literally _anything_.

You laugh at him, your hands reaching up to grip his sides, and he finally pauses. His gaze turns back to you—his orange eyes shy now that the intensity of the situation has died down, but you only smile at him. Tired, but reassuring. Like always.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” you ask, giggling when Levi sheepishly nods his head. “I’m glad then.”

“I’m sorry,” he speaks up after a moment, his hands reaching beneath you. He cradles you in his arms, carrying you to his bed. “Please don’t hate me now.”

“I could never,” you tell him honestly, your palm cupping his cheek as he bends over to set you down. His eyes meet yours—still apologetic—and you cough, your face turning pink and gaze darting away.

“And besides, I…um…actually really enjoyed that. So please don’t feel sorry.”

A wave of relief washes over Leviathan, and he topples you over with a hug.

“UGH. I was so _worried_! But man, that was _sooooo_ hot!! I can’t believe you let me do that to you, and you _enjoyed it!!_ I knew I liked you for a reason, Y/N!”

His outburst of emotion has you giggling—his face rubbing against your chest as he releases all his pent-up feelings. However, after a minute his words and movements stop, and you open your eyes, glancing down at him.

He’s looking at you with a serious face, but his eyes shine with excitement.

“Can I import you and start the game again? Oh! Or, if I buy more games like that will you let me make you my main character? _Please_?”

“I--,” you’re not sure what to say—feeling embarrassed all over again at the idea. He seems so enthralled by the idea, and while you’re completely flattered that he’d enjoyed the experience so much that he actually wants to do it again, right now your brain isn’t able to entertain the idea. You’re too exhausted.

“M-Maybe?? Ask me later.”

“Huhuhuhu okay~!” he giggles, hugging you tightly once more, and you can’t help but smile.

As dorky as he is—the Avatar of Envy is as equally endearing.

* * *

“Hey Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you make the monster fuck me in the game?”

Your question has him turning pink—his gaze shying away from you.

“Because…”

“Because?”

“Because yourpussyismine--!”

You frown, not understanding.

“What?”

“Because your pussy is mine!!” he yells, his embarrassment exploding as you force the admission out of him.

Your eyes go wide, cheeks reddening at his declaration.

 _Well,_ you think, feeling like you may need a cold shower. _That settles that_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If anyone wants to talk about Obey Me, or just interact, please feel free to head over to my tumblr: dom-joonie!!  
> I'd love to have some people to talk about Obey Me with!
> 
> PS. As always, please leave your reaction or comment! I love reading them!


	5. Wet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day!!
> 
> This chapter is officially dedicated to @atroposisms !!! I super hope you enjoy it! I probably could have made it more kinky, but oh well.
> 
> Also, I'm still on Lesson 17, and am just getting a taste of the real Belphie, so I hope I didn't write him too OOC ;;;

**Pairing** : Belphegor x Reader

 **Word Count** : 3,564

 **Preview** : Basically, the 4th night of "Good Night Devil", but if you ended up alone with Belphie instead. Seriously...his brothers are idiots to trust him. He's just as horny as the rest of them. Especially for you.

_“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you like that I’m toying with you while you’re asleep?”_

_“Yes. A lot."_

* * *

Belphegor finds himself staring at you as you sleep.

For the first time in 3 nights, you’re actually resting—curled up in the middle your spacious bed, breathing softly. Thanks to Lucifer’s ongoing “sleep experiment”, tonight Belphie has been instructed to stay in your room with you.

Originally, he had been paired with Satan, but after Satan had teased the eldest brother with a remark on how “Belphie being around won’t stop me from doing what I want”, Lucifer had taken it upon himself to keep you protected while rooming with the Avatar of Wrath.

So now, on the final and fourth day, Belphegor finds himself alone with you.

Honestly, he’s a bit offended that Lucifer had paired just the two of you together. Does his older brother not think he’ll try anything? He likes you just as much as the others, he just…doesn’t show you as much affection as Beel, or Mammon (even though the second oldest will definitely deny that he does at all).

Sighing, Belphegor runs a hand through his messy hair, his eyes refocusing on your sleeping form once more. You really do look cute like that…

At that moment, you shift in your sleep—the covers around you sliding down your torso as you flip to your other side. Immediately, Belphegor’s gaze focuses in on your squished-together cleavage, and his cheeks redden. Why do you have to sleep in only a tank top and shorts? Shouldn’t you be a little more careful around him and his brothers?

After all, it’s not like they don’t have desires…

His eyes rake over your soft skin—settling on the curve of your neck, as he imagines how pretty you’d look covered in hickies. A dull ache settles in his gut, and while he knows he should stop, he continues to let his mind wander.

He imagines your breasts in his hands, and the quiet little sounds you’d make as he touched you—unable to help yourself. He’s sure your skin is soft, and he wants to caress every inch of it, until he knows of each mole, scar, or otherwise.

 _Shit_ , he thinks to himself, hand moving down to palm at his crotch. He’s hard thanks his roaming imagination, but…as much as he wants to touch you, that would be wrong, right?

His thoughts return last week, when he’d accidentally run into you at the junction of two hallways. He’d ended up on top of you—one of his hands firmly planted on your breast, and his knee pressed up against your pelvis. You’d both immediately flushed red once realizing the position you were in, and Belphegor had stumbled off you—stuttering apologies.

“ _It’s okay,_ ” you’d told him, attempting to laugh it off. “ _No worries, Belphie. I know that you didn’t mean to touch me in that way, but…I’d trust you anyway_.”

Your words had weighed heavy in his mind following that day. You’d reassured him that it’d be okay if he touched you, even though he hadn’t meant to in that moment. Did that mean you _wanted_ him to touch you like that?

The Avatar of Sloth swallows harshly, his hand reaching down to grab the edge of your covers. Slowly, he peels them down your sleeping form—not too surprised that you don’t awake. Beel had informed him that during the time he and you had roomed together, he’d picked up on your sleeping habits—one being that once you got to sleep, it was very hard to wake you during the first few hours.

Belphegor hates that he gets aroused at the idea of touching you while you’re unaware. But…it would be so easy. To just slip your tank top down your shoulders…listening to you quietly moan has he sucks on your tits—his fingers finding their way beneath your shorts…

Before he can think twice, he finds himself lowering onto the bed beside you. Gently, he grips your shoulder and rolls you onto your back, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you don’t stir.

If he were a human, surely he’d be going to hell for this, but since he’s already here…

Reaching out, he cups your breast though your shirt—the flesh squishing beneath his fingertips. He feels your nipple harden—pressing up against the flat of his palm—and a quiet chuckle sneaks past his lips. Even in your sleep, your body can’t deny it’s desires, huh?

Gaining a little courage, the Avatar of Sloth slips the straps of your tank top off of your shoulders—additional inches of skin becoming exposed to his hungry eyes. And despite wanting to rip your shirt off of you—Belphie works slowly—peeling the fabric down inch by inch until finally, your breasts are fully accessible.

Immediately, he leans over—flattening his tongue against one of your nipples and giving an experimental lick. At the sensation, your breathing hitches slightly, but you don’t awaken. He grins, hand reaching out to claim the other mound as his mouth continues working at the present one.

Despite being asleep, it’s clear that your body has sensed a change. Quiet whines begin to build in your throat—eyebrows furrowing on your forehead. However, the sounds only urge Belphie to proceed.

His tongue continues swirling around your taut nipple—teeth gently nipping at the bud on occasion, and the whines that leave you in response has the Avatar of Sloth’s cock straining against his underwear. Without ceasing, his eyes drag down your torso, pausing at the crotch of your shorts. He can see your thighs clenching ever so slightly.

 _I wonder_ , he thinks to himself, his hand releasing your breast. His fingers sneak beneath the hem of your shorts—oh-so-very-gently parting your folds—and sure enough, immediately your arousal coats his skin.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he mumbles to himself, his hot breath fanning against you. “Do you like that I’m toying with you while you’re asleep?”

Belphie sucks your tit into his mouth, his fingers rubbing at your clit, and you mewl beneath him. You stir slightly, your limps stretching against the sheets, but Belphegor is too distracted to care. If you wake up, then you wake up. However, until then, he has no intention of stopping.

His hard-on presses against your side as he teases a finger in between your walls. Your juices coat the digit, but it’s not enough to draw you out of your slumber. So, he pushes in a second—realizing that the current situation is becoming something akin to a game to him. At this point, he’s curious to find exactly how far he can go before you finally wake up.

“ _Mmm_ ,” you moan, your body shifting. Your hips roll against his hands—clearly your subconscious knows _something_ is going on—and Belphegor laughs quietly. He curls his fingers against your walls—his lips nibbling at the skin on your chest.

“You look pretty all marked up,” he whispers, admiring the fresh red marks he’s created. He knows by morning they’ll be a delicious shade of purple, and the thought causes him to ache. Frowning, he reaches down and strokes himself over his pants. Oh, how he wishes he could just fuck you awake.

…wait.

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Belphegor scoots down the mattress and in between your thighs. Arousal has pooled between your legs—wetting the fabric of your shorts—and Belphie peels the cloth to the side. Your cute, glistening folds stare back at him, and he reaches his hands forward, spreading his fingers in a V shape so he can see you in all of your glory.

“You haven’t let any of my brothers see you like this, right?” he questions, his tone possessive. He shoves his sweats down his thighs, his hands grabbing your lower half. He drags you down to meet him, his cock rubbing between your soft folds—his pre-cum smearing with your own arousal.

The Avatar of Sloth toys with you for a few seconds—basking in the way your fingers curl into the sheets when the head of his cock flicks against your clit—but finds his self-control wearing thin. He wants to be inside you.

Reaching down—he grabs his length with one hand, and lifts your hips off the bed with the other (really, sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s a demon, and has strength you can’t fathom). Slowly, Belphegor aligns himself with your entrance, his eyes glued on the space between your bodies as he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

In fact, he so preoccupied with drooling over the way your pussy feels around him, that he fails to notice your fluttering eyelashes—your groggy gaze shifting around as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Until just a moment ago, you’d been having a strange dream. At first, it’d started off as nothing out of the ordinary—you were wandering around the House of Lamentation, doing nothing in particular—but part way through, things had suddenly turned…sexual. Belphie had appeared out of nowhere, whispering dirty things into your ear as his hands found their way beneath your clothing.

Now that you’re awake, the images are beginning to blur in your memory, but you remember, at the very least, that things had just been starting to get good. His mouth on your tits, his hands parting your legs as he prepared to enter you.

“Mmm,” you whine, eyebrows pinching as you feel some pressure in your lower half. You feel…stretched, full—and instinctively clench your muscles, wondering what could be wrong.

“Mm, _fuck_ ,” you hear someone’s voice catch—a groan caught behind closed lips—and your eyes open a little wider. You brain fully boots-up, and you become aware of quite a few things at once.

One, your chest is in the open air—your nipples hard, and sore, but somehow, you feel that the reaction isn’t from your lack of covers alone.

Two, the pressure you’re feeling in your lower half is not just a figment of your imagination. _Something_ is inside of your pussy and—

Just as you begin to panic, your eyes flit downward, and you pause. You spot the Avatar of Sloth between your legs—his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and a pure look of ecstasy on his face as he bottoms out inside of you. You can feel the head of his cock pressed up against your cervix, and you gasp—cheeks going red as you finally realize that you hadn’t just had a wet dream coincidentally. No, Belphegor had actually been touching you in your sleep.

“B-Belphie?” you question, pushing yourself up slightly to stare at him. He startles out of his bliss, his orange eyes meeting your embarrassed gaze, and in that moment, you can see an array of emotions flash across his face. He’s embarrassed at being caught, scared of how you’ll react, but…in the end, he still desperately wants to fuck you.

“You know,” he says, experimentally rolling his hips against you. The feeling of his cock inside you is suddenly very prominent—his girth a little overwhelming—and you struggle to catch your breath.

“You got really wet in your sleep. Were you dreaming about me doing this to you?”

“I…,” you can’t find the words to say, your blush creeping down your neck and onto your chest. Belphegor grins happily, his fingers pressing into your skin as he drags his cock out, and then forces it back in again.

“Oh? I was just teasing, but it looks like I hit the nail on the head.”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. How are you suppose to respond? Had he really been touching you in your sleep? It’s not like you weren’t interested in the youngest brother, and hadn’t daydreamed about him before in this light, but…you hadn’t imagined him ever being bold enough to literally fuck you out of your sleep.

Belphegor grinds into you once more—his cock pressing into your sweet spot—and you moan, your spine curving upward off the mattress. You can sense the pleasure that has already pooled in your gut—the sensation either left over from your wet-dream, a product of Belphegor’s actions in real life, or both.

Humming, the youngest brother coasts his hand up your torso—his fingers dragging across your supple skin and causing goosebumps to rise. His touch ghosts between your breasts, his warm palm settling against your throat as the pads of his fingers squeeze firmly on either side of your neck.

“Do you like that I played with you without you knowing?” he asks, but you can tell he already knows the answer. He rocks against you—his length dragging between your walls at an agonizingly slow pace. One that has a whine building in your throat—your body shifting down to try and quicken his thrusts.

In response, Belphegor squeezes your neck a little harder, and you feel light headedness beginning to set in.

“I’d really like it if you answered my question.”

“Yes,” you respond. As if rewarding you, the Avatar of Sloth bucks his hips a little harder—his pace speeding up incrementally.

“Have you been wanting this to happen?” he continues, an edge to his tone. You realize that as you reaffirm his suspicions, his arousal grows. He wants to hear you admit all the dirty things you’ve thought about him and have kept to yourself.

“A lot.”

Again, Belphegor ups the intensity—lewd, wet sounds echoing throughout your room as he penetrates you. His hair is messier than usual, a dark look in his eye that lets you know he’s enjoying this a bit too much.

Despite not being the best of friends with Lucifer, he certainly has inherited a bit of his older brother’s sadistic tendencies…

“Belphie, mm, _please_ ,” you beg, your eyes half lidded as you glance at him. He’s pounding into you with no remorse, the bedframe creaking with his movements. At the same time, his fingers continue to tighten around your throat. You can still breathe perfectly fine (albeit your breaths coming out short and hitched thanks to his cock and the wonders it’s doing to you), but things are starting to become a bit fuzzy thanks to the lack of blood flow. Yet, somehow, the sensation only causes the fire smoldering in your gut to reach new levels.

Belphegor feels your pussy clench around him, and he basks in the way your head falls back against the sheets—your eyes mindlessly watching him as he unravels you. Really, he wants to choke you even more—keep you a mindless little puppet who can do nothing but take what he gives—but he doesn’t want to hurt you. You’re a human, and this is the first time you’ve both been intimate like this, so. Despite his deep, dark desires, he loosens his grip.

Immediately you breathe deeply, your eyes regaining their light as your mind becomes more aware.

“Do want to cum?” he asks, his hand still holding your neck firmly. You nod your head, bottom lip catching between your teeth. The look on your face is one of pure ecstasy—a hint of desperation beginning to knit between your eyebrows—and Belphie licks his lips.

Truly, he wants to burn this memory into his mind. You—writhing against the sheets, filled to the brim with his cock—your tits bouncing at every thrust, and your fingers gripping at the sheets. He’s not sure he’s seen anything so beautiful.

“I want you to beg.”

“ _Please_ ,” you respond immediately, never breaking eye contact. “ _Please_ , Belphie. I want to cum so bad.”

“How bad?” Even if his member throbs painfully at your words—his own release taunting him—he doesn’t feel like letting you off so easy.

“V-Very bad,” you stutter, knowing that you could cum at any moment. You’re only holding on by a thread. However, there’s a submissive part of you that wants his permission first—even if holding back makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“I need to cum, Belphie. _Please._ Oh god, _please_!”

Your spine curves, eyes pressing shut and knuckles turning white, and Belphie knows this is it. You’ve reached your breaking point.

“Cum,” he commands, permitting your release. Immediately, your walls hug his cock—a guttural groan sneaking past your lips as you let go of yourself. The Avatar of Sloth loses himself in the way your pussy grips his length—attempting to milk his orgasm out of him—and it works.

He curses, his fingers once again pressing against your neck as he empties himself inside of you. You whine at the feeling—wet, and sticky, and perhaps you’ve gone a bit light headed again from his grasp (but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it).

“Belphegor,” you whisper once you’re sure his bliss has subsided—his eyes fluttering open as his gaze falls on you. You look a little helpless now—and immediately the youngest brother sweeps down to kiss you. The gesture is sweet—his lips soft—and you lift your arms to wrap around him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, a little heartbroken by how defenseless you look now that the heat of the moment has subsided. Even if you _had_ both enjoyed yourselves, Belphegor is guilty of quite literally fucking you out of your sleep, and he’s sure the entire scenario is a bit startling.

Beneath him, hugging him to your chest, you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, your cheeks flushing pink. “I enjoyed that. It was just…unexpected.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. You giggle, your hands petting through his hair.

“I suppose your right.” You’re quiet for a moment, and Belphie blinks when your hands suddenly leave him. Glancing up, he finds that both of your palms are now covering your face—your blush beginning to sneak down onto your chest.

“Ahhhh~ I can’t believe I woke up with your dick inside of me,” you whisper, clearly frazzled. Belphegor laughs, pressing more kisses to your naked skin.

“And you loved it. Now stop freaking out, and let’s go to sleep. I’m exhausted.”

“Lil brat,” you grumble, but the Avatar of Sloth only laughs again. He rolls beside you—his head still rested on your chest, and you sigh. Of course, the demon who had decided to startle you awake is now the one so easily passing out atop you.

“You can dream about round two until we get to it in real life,” he says with a yawn, his cheek nuzzling against your breast. Your face feels warm again, but you don’t respond. Instead, you soak in Belphegor’s warmth—and within minutes, his steady breathing has lulled you back into sleep.

* * *

“How was your night?”

Lucifer’s voice startles you as you walk into the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. You jump, turning to face him with wide eyes. There’s an innocent smile plastered on his face.

“Good,” you respond, forcing a smile of your own as you try to keep any _intimate_ memories of the previous night from resurfacing in your head. “I actually got some sleep.”

“Whhhhatttt? I figured Belphie would keep you up all night. He’s the king of night owls,” Leviathan speaks up from the table, turning to look at you and Lucifer.

“Well, he did wake me up, at some point,” you respond without really thinking, and immediately seven pairs of eyes are on you.

“Why?” Satan questions, his eyebrow raised curiously. Gazes shift between you, and Belphegor—who is sat at the far end of the table. He seems unbothered by the entire situation.

“I was feeling needy,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice, even if it doesn’t show his face. “Y/N helped me out.”

Immediately Mammon is choking on his food—Beel reaching over to smack his back. Asmo looks a little too giddy at his brother’s proclamation, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as most of the brothers turn their attention back to you—awaiting your response.

Obviously, the only logical option is to roll with it.

“Why are you all looking at me like that? I can tell what you’re thinking, you perverts.”

Neither a confirmation, nor denial. So, not necessarily a lie!

“Wow, what kind of person do you take me for?” Belphegor joins in, enjoying the moment way too much. Lucifer’s eyes narrow, not very convinced, but he doesn’t press the matter.

“I’m glad you managed to get some sleep. I’ll be awaiting your report,” he ends up saying, and then leans in a bit closer. “I expect it to be written in _full detail_.”

A chill runs up your spine, and he smiles at you once more before stepping away from you and heading to the table. You join him after a moment, your eyes landing on Belphegor as the youngest grins—dancing around Mammon’s questions as the second oldest begins interrogating the Sloth Avatar on the true meaning of his words.

Belphie is practically beaming as he teases his brothers, and you find yourself rolling your eyes—a fond smile tugging at your lips.

Oh gosh, what are you going to do with him…

…and oh fuck, what are you going to do with your report?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave me a comment because they make my day!! (It will also be a Valentine's gift so you should do it)
> 
> AND - if you want to interact, get to know me, talk about Obey Me! whatever, hit me up on tumblr @dom-joonie


	6. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh ;;; *sweats* After I had a particularly good [redacted] yesterday, I opened up a new word doc at like 11pm and started writing my sweet little bdsm slut heart out. I got about 1,000 words in before I realized I was too tired to coherently write, so I picked it up again today and here we are. It's a little shorter than the other chapters, but that's what happens when you write out your deep, dark fantasies in the spur of the moment.
> 
> Hopefully this chapter is still written alright. Like I said, I did kind of rush into it, and I'm always bad at getting a good feel for my own writing;;;
> 
> I intended to write 1 chapter for each of the boys before I started adding in duplicate pairings, but...I'm REALLY a helpless slut for Lucifer.
> 
> So yeah.
> 
> I want Lucifer to ascend from hell and make me his slave. That is all.

**Pairing** : Lucifer x Reader

 **Word Count** : 2,093

 **Preview** : Lucifer is described as a sadist, and as his favorite toy, you learn this first hand.

Sometimes he can be gentle but...tonight, he intends to make you cry.

* * *

Lucifer can be nice…when he wants to be.

His love making with you ranges anything from “soft, doting romantic interest” to “hardcore, hogtied dungeon master”. And currently, on a scale of one to ten— (one being gentle vanilla sex, and ten being “Lucifer may be the king of sadists”)—the situation you’re in is about a 9.5.

You’d known this morning—when Lucifer had curled a finger beneath your chin, guiding you into a tease of a kiss—that today, you were in for a treat. There had been a distinct twinkle in his crimson eyes—one that you knew from experience spelled out trouble—but you were hopeless to escape.

If you ran, Lucifer would pursue you—like a predator hunting prey—and pay you back for your disobedience. You had learned this once, after he’d instructed you to come to his room at a specific time, and you had forgotten. He had immediately tracked you down—displeased to find you with Mammon, of all people—and dragged you into his room.

The next morning, you could hardly sit, or stand. Your ass had been so bruised that any simple movement became a reminder to not forget Lucifer’s orders.

However, today, you haven’t disobeyed. You haven’t done anything to warrant his wrath.

Lucifer just loves to be mean.

“ _Please_ ,” you beg him, your voice coming out in a near whisper as you attempt to catch your breath. The bed frame rocks with each of Lucifer’s powerful thrusts—wet noises filling the spacious room as your arousal begins to pool against the sheets.

Every inch of your pretty pussy is on full view—your ankles wrapped with red rope and secured to the headboard above you. There’s a pillow beneath your hips, propping your body off the mattress for more comfortability in the position, but also so that Lucifer can pound into you while truly seeing all you have to offer.

He watches the way your clit twitches—desperate to be touched, even if just for a moment. He knows it’s your favorite spot, which is why he purposefully ignores it.

Once before, he’d made you cum in less than 2 minutes, just by holding a vibrator to the small bundle of nerves. It’d been quite an enjoyable experience to observe—you, writhing, your body shifting from zero to a hundred in such a short span of time. But now…now he has no intention of letting you climax so quickly and painlessly.

“ _Hnn_ \--!” you gasp as Lucifer tugs at the clamps on your nipples. Your breasts ache—small red squares dotting the soft skin in the places he had attached clothes pins earlier on. Each one had made you want to cry—your flesh feeling like it was burning as he put them all in place, and then slowly plucked them off one by one.

And, just when you had believed he was finally done torturing your chest, he’d pulled a pair of chained nipple clamps out of nowhere—tightening them until you were hissing from the pain.

Now, as he fucks you, each tug of the clamps has your pussy clenching around him. Despite how it may hurt, every mean action Lucifer inflicts upon you makes you wetter—more desperate—and that’s what he craves.

“ _Please, Lucifer_ ,” you beg once more, your gaze watching him as he studies the space between your bodies.

“Don’t let this come out,” he responds, completely ignoring your words. His fingers reach down to press against the jeweled plug currently filling your ass. With each of his thrusts, the toy threatens to push out of you.

“You won’t like the consequences.”

You can only nod, gasping for air as the intensity of the current situation begins to overwhelm you. You’re completely helpless to him—both your arms and legs tied above you, and all of your most sensitive parts at his disposal.

At this point, you’re not sure how long this session has lasted, but it has to be drawing near an hour. He’d spent lots of time breaking you into perfect submission before finally fucking you. The pain of the clothes pins on your tits had just been the final straw in breaking you down.

You’d promised your body, and mind—begging him to take you however he desired, so long as he properly touch you. And, after throwing you onto the bed, tying you so truly had no way to resist, and shoving a plug into your ass—he had.

His dick had pushed between your walls with no hesitation—gasps and whines sneaking past your lips as his girth stretched and filled you. Lucifer didn’t give you time to adjust to the intrusion, his hips bucking into you with fervor as he began to pursue his own release.

After all, as the perfect slut, your orgasm shouldn’t matter, right?

“ _Please,_ please let me cum,” you try again, tears wetting your eyelashes. Lucifer’s hard gaze shifts up to you, and he sees the desperation painted on your face. A sick pleasure grows in his gut.

“Are you sure you want to?”

You nod quickly, and Lucifer sighs.

“Fine then.” He reaches to the side, producing the vibrator that makes you cum in record time, and your eyes go wide. Dread seeps into your bones as he grins down at you—truly a sadistic bastard—and he presses the head of the toy to your clit.

“But only if you can last 30 seconds.”

He hits the power button, and cranks it up to high. Immediately, your skull is pressing back into the mattress, a frustrated and desperate sob ripping from your chest as your leering orgasm rockets to the surface.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you bite, genuinely attempting to hold your climax at bay, but it’s hopeless. Your spine curves, eyes rolling back as your walls tighten around Lucifer’s cock.

“Y/N--,” he begins to warn, but it’s too late. With a guttural moan, you find your release. The waves of pleasure course through your lower half—both your pussy and ass riding out the sensation. However, unlike your pussy, which is being forcefully stuffed with Lucifer’s cock—your ass has nothing holding it back. So, the plug subsequently slips from inside of you—falling against the messy sheets—and almost instantly you feel Lucifer’s length disappear from between your walls.

You begin to whine—missing the feeling of him—but the sound quickly changes to a cry when something quite large shoves into your other hole. Your legs strain against their restraints, eyes flying to Lucifer as he gives the chain on your chest a poignant tug.

There’s displeasure in his eyes.

“You didn’t listen,” he says, his hips grinding down against your own. Your mind is overwhelmed—too many feelings assaulting you at once. Your orgasm has yet to entirely fade—your walls still grasping around nothing—as Lucifer begins fucking your ass just as roughly as he had your pussy. The sensation is foreign, and perhaps a bit painful, but you’re sure that’s the point. He’s never used your ass before now, but considering the orders you’d failed to heed, re-stuffing your rear with his own length is truly the only fitting punishment (or, at least, you’re sure that’s what Lucifer is thinking).

“Fuck, _Lucifer_ ,” you sob, exhausted. Your legs go limp against their bonds, your body becoming nothing more than Lucifer’s play thing as he claims your ass as his own.

You gaze follows him as he drags two of his fingers between your sopping folds. When he reaches his hand forward, instinctively, you open your mouth—tasting yourself on your tongue as he shoves the digits inside of you. You gag as he ventures farther than he knows you’re comfortable—a new bout of tears welling in your eyes—but Lucifer doesn’t plan on giving you any mercy.

“Suck,” he commands, and you obey. Your eyes are out of focus as you look at him—his strong, toned body flexing with every movement. His fingers curl against your tongue, his other hand moving to grip the chained clamps, and you scream as he abruptly tugs them. The strength applied to the action rips the clamps from your nipples, but Lucifer is quick to silence your cries—his fingers once again venturing deep and making you gag.

Now, you’re truly at your breaking point—tears escaping the corners of your eyes as he continues to ruthlessly fuck you. At this point, he’s simply chasing his own release, and how you feel about it doesn’t quite matter, now does it?

Mind a bit numb, your lips enclose over his fingers, half-lidded eyes zoning on him as you begin sucking on the long digits once more. Lucifer’s stare is still trailed on the space between your bodies, his free hand gripping your thigh tightly. The Avatar of Pride gets sick pleasure out of seeing the way your pussy clenches—desiring to be filled while he fucks your ass instead—the cute, puckered hole being nothing short of abused by him.

“ _Mm_ ,” the small groan is muffled behind his closed lips, but you note the way his eyebrows pinch together. Lucifer’s face becomes a bit pained, and you know that he’s finally going to cum. You clench around him—his fingernails digging into the soft flesh on your thigh, and you’re sure you’ll be bruised, but—

Lucifer hisses quietly, his hips smacking against you one last time before he finally unravels. He bottoms out inside of you, his seed painting your walls and marking you as his. Your tongue swirls around his fingers faithfully, and after a moment he pulls his hand from your mouth—a trail of spit stretching between your bodies.

Then—for the first time in a while—Lucifer’s eyes rake over your form, taking in the sight of you. Your tits, pussy and ass are red with abuse. There are marks on your thighs where he’d grabbed you, and tears on your blushing face—your skin damp with sweat, and eyes clouded from exhaustion.

 _Beautiful_.

Gently, he pulls his softening length from inside of you—eyeing your fluttering hole as it attempts to readjust to not being filled—a small dribble of his cum dripping out of you.

“Lucifer…,” you breathe, voice quivering.

“Shh,” he responds, bending down to press a kiss against your soon-to-be-bruised thigh. He then reaches over you—his fingers working to unknot the rope holding you in place. You’re a little impatient as he works—desperate for a taste of affection after being used by him for so long. (You’re almost positive this is the longest period of time he’s tortured you to date).

Luckily, Lucifer is versed in his knowledge of rope work (strangely, you have Mammon to thank for that) and manages to free you quickly. Your legs and arms feel the strain from being stuck in one position for so long, and Lucifer helps you ease your limbs down onto the mattress. Once more comfortable, he immediately leans over your torso and cups your cheeks with his hands.

“My love,” he speaks, drawing you into a kiss. You press into him, craving his touch. He only calls you such sweet things when he’s satisfied, and because he knows you need to affection. Despite his sadistic nature, he is not a fool who overlooks proper aftercare.

“You did so well.”

You’re too tired to respond. You simply reach up to hug him, and the Avatar of Pride chuckles. Settling beside you, he holds you to his chest—his lips pressing into your hair as he rubs a hand between your shoulder blades.

For a short while, you both stay like that—his warmth seeping into your bones as you slowly release all the tension held in your body. Once you’re finally relaxed—breathing slow, and deep—Lucifer shifts.

“Will you be alright if I leave you for a moment? You need water, and I can clean you up.”

“Please,” you respond, nodding. He presses one last kiss to your head, and then scoots off the bed. As he walks towards the bathroom to gather what he needs, Lucifer glances back at you—your naked body snuggled beneath his covers—and a sense of pride settles in his chest.

You are _his_ to have.

And as much as he can’t wait to learn every little spec of information about you—

He just as much can’t wait to push you to your limits.

A grin pulls at Lucifer’s lips.

Frankly, he’ll make it a point to do both.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, hmu @dom-joonie on tumblr to talk, and please leave a comment yelling at me if you enjoyed :'))


	7. The Best Type of Workout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of Beel and food play out there, so I decided to go the size kink route instead.
> 
> Also, there was a fanart on twitter by @ObAngye of Beel working out that really inspired me, and is now also the background on my phone 🤧💦 (please go check out their page you won't regret it I promise).
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Beel is a big boy, with a big dick, and would gladly let him rip me in half.

**Pairing** : Beelzebub x Reader

 **Word Count** : 5,525

 **Preview** : A simple request from Beel turns into a big issue when you lose yourself to your feelings for him.

_"I want you. All of you."_

Now the real question is...can you fit all of him?

* * *

It starts out as an innocent request—a text from Beel, asking you to come to the gym and film him. You agree without giving it much thought. You don’t exactly have anything better to occupy your time, and you’d be grateful to get away from Mammon’s constant unannounced appearances in your room, so—you slip on your shoes and exit the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer would have your head knowing that you’re leaving without an escort—after all, not all demons are as nice as them—but Beel had given you a tour of the gym before, and it wasn’t a very far walk.

Within minutes, you’re entering the brightly lit building. It’s not too late—only about 9pm—but not many demons are inside.

Well…it is a Friday, and you suppose that people would rather be out having fun than working out in a gym that smells overwhelmingly like air freshener.

“Y/N,” Beel calls, and you search for the sound—your eyes eventually finding him. He’s stood near a bench press—dressed in a fitted black wife beater, and a pair of baggy sweats. You’re not sure why, but all of the sudden saliva is pooling in your mouth, and you have to remember to swallow. Perhaps it’s because you’ve never seen him in his workout clothes before—his pecs and abs outlined by his top, and his tanned, beefy arms shining with a thin layer of sweat…

“Y/N?” he speaks again, and you blink out of your trance, your eyes finding his. He’s frowning at you, worry in his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah! I’m fine,” you respond, and hurry over to wear he’s standing. You greet him with a smile—still a little frazzled—and Beel immediately returns it. For a second, he lifts his arms—leaning in as if to hug you—but then he pulls back.

“I’m sweaty. You probably don’t want a hug,” he says, as if saying his thoughts aloud. You’re tempted to argue that you’ll take a hug from him whenever—because honestly feeling his large body engulf you—his scent sticking to your clothes, and his chin resting against your head—is a huge guilty pleasure of yours—but the moment is already gone. Beel has stepped away, positioning himself on the seat of the bench press.

Annnnnddd you’re starting again, enraptured by the simplistic charm he exudes solely by being in his element. His thighs are spread, messy orange hair falling into his eyes—and while the sight isn’t scandalous, it’s just…he’s just…very handsome.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his hand reaching forward. He grabs your wrist, tugging you to him. You lose your balance slightly, and your hand lands on his thigh, his free arm steadying you by your hip.

“You’re really red…,” he mumbles, releasing your wrist and raising his palm to press against your forehead. His brows are creased in concern once more—his face close—and you feel yourself getting even warmer.

Oh god, what has gotten into you?? Sure, you’ve always thought Beel was attractive, and perhaps had thought about him before in a light that reached beyond friendship, but…why is this happening to you _now_?!

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, releasing a deep sigh. You press back, separating yourself from him slightly. “I’m fine, Beel, I promise.”

“Truly?” he asks, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your hip. His finger press into the fabric of your jeans, not allowing you to fully get away—not until he believes you.

“Truly,” you assure him, smiling. He eyes you considerately, as if debating whether to trust you, but after a moment he smiles as well—his touch falling away.

“Good. Do you think you can record me then? I want to make sure my form is okay, and it’d be helpful to have a video to review later.”

“Sure!” you say, moving to pull your phone from your pocket. In the back of your head, there are alarm bells ringing. You’ve just agreed to record Beelzebub _working out_ —how are you going to handle that, when your thirst for the Avatar of Gluttony is finally starting to catch up with you?!

 _I just need to play it cool, and stick it out_ , you think to yourself, getting your video recorder ready as Beel positions himself under the barbell. Your eyes flit to the weights lining the bar—multiple huge discs of metal secured on either side. You can’t tell their weight, but you’re sure that it’s a lot. Probably enough to kill you if you tried to lift it.

“Ready?” he asks, and you nod—hitting the red button on your phone screen.

“You’re good to go,” you respond, and Beel presses upward—lifting the barbell from the rack. He lowers it to his chest, and then pushes it up—his face scrunching in concentration as he works under the challenging weight. You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen—hoping that it will help filter the effects that Beel’s workout is sure to have on you—but of course it doesn’t.

The muscles in his arms flex—thick veins tracking up and down his tan skin—and immediately you’re already reminding yourself that you need to breathe. However, that’s easier said than done—your eyes trailing down his arms and settling on his chest—his pectorals rising and falling with each press of the bar.

Slowly, you move around the equipment, filming Beel from different angles—assuming that’s what he wants. At least despite the heat flooding your limbs, you’re still somewhat aware of the task he’s given you.

As you circle him, your gaze rakes down his torso—soaking in the patch of skin that has been revealed thanks to his top riding up. The prominent V of his hip bones has you biting your lip—your breathing picking up slightly, and your eyes travel lower still. Thanks to his current position, with his back pressed flat against the bench and his sweats not leaving much to imagination—his bulge is quite obvious.

You swallow harshly, freezing in place as your thighs press together. Your pussy throbs—heart thumping against your ribs—and you forget about what you’re meant to be doing. Instead, your mind begins to wander.

If he’s that big flaccid, then he must really be packing it when erect. And suddenly—you’re imaging Beel’s cock inside of you—pushing you to your limits as he buries himself between your wet walls—his touches soft despite his large stature. You don’t feel small all the time, but you’re sure he would make you feel petite. Maybe your stomach would even protrude a bit—

“Oi~”

There’s a hand on your head—fingers running through your hair—and you blink back into reality. Beel’s staring at you, eyebrows raised curiously.

“Did you zone out while filming? I put the bar back and you were still standing there, staring off into space.”

“I…,” you attempt to respond, but your brain feels as if it’s short circuited. You’re hot all over—and it doesn’t help that Beel’s fingers are petting through your hair so fondly.

“I just…you look good working out,” you admit, unable to keep the truth from coming out. (Likely because you’re needy beyond measure right now, and actually _want_ him to take the hint.) Despite your efforts to maintain an innocent friendship with Beelzebub, you want him to touch you more than anything. You thrive on his hugs, and any lingering contact, and you crave _more_.

“Oh,” he responds, apparently not having expected that response. There’s a bashful look on his face, his eyes darting to the side. His fingers slide from your head—but you chase after his touch—catching his hand midair and pulling it back to you. You cradle it near your chest—selfish, and not wanting to let him go.

“I…,” your words escape you, embarrassment flooding you as you attempt to work up the courage to tell him what you want. At seeing your inner turmoil, Beel lifts his hand to cup your cheek—your fingers still gripping his own. Your heart skips a beat when you meet his gaze—a mixture of worry, and…excitement? held in his eyes—

“I want you,” you say, voice almost a whisper. Suddenly feeling a little bold at the admission of emotions you’d been holding onto for too long, you shift your face in his hold and press your lips against his fingers. Beel immediately turns red, his eyes going wide. His mouth opens, but no words come out, and an ache pangs at your heart.

Maybe you’ve just ruined everything. Oh god, you shouldn’t have opened your mouth, what were you thinking?!

Your hands leave him, foot stepping backwards as you prepare to run away, but luckily—Beel’s brain finally digests your words. Before you can get too far, he grips both of your shoulders, spinning you back to face him. A noise of shock leaves you—but the sound is muffled by his lips as Beel drags you into a kiss.

Despite his gentle nature, the kiss is far from soft—your lips feeling as if they may bruise. You feel his tongue drag against the seal of your lips, and a quiet moan leaves you—your body beginning to melt against him. However, just as you begin to lose yourself in the moment, a whistle in the background throws you back into reality.

Your cheeks are flaming, wide eyes scanning across the floor of the gym as you and Beel mutually part. The few demons present are all looking at you, interest clear on their faces—a look of “don’t let us stop you”.

“C’mon,” Beel speaks up suddenly. He grabs your wrist, swoops down to snatch the bag he had brought with him, and then leads you to the door. A few teasing calls follow you out, and you find yourself pressing closer to the Avatar of Gluttony, needing somewhere to hide.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles after a few seconds—his strides long as he leads you up the street. You struggle to keep up, your eyes darting to his face. From the looks of it, he seems a little upset with himself.

“No, Beel, you don’t need to be sorry,” you try to tell him, but he doesn’t respond. He continues to pull you along—the House of Lamentation coming into sight. However, you know that you need to do something before you arrive home. If he sets foot inside, then you’re sure he’ll bury himself in the fridge and attempt to drown out his current regretful feelings with food.

“Beel,” you say again, louder. You lift your other hand and place it atop his—fingers curling against the side of his palm. At the same time, you begin dragging your feet, forcing him to slow down—and after a few seconds, the two of you come to a stop.

Around you, the street is quiet—illuminated by soft lights overhead. Beelzebub still won’t look at you, and you sigh, gently prying his grip from your wrist. Luckily, he doesn’t put up a fight, and you cradle his palm between your own as you step around to face him.

He still looks shy, and guilt-ridden. He had mindlessly kissed you in a public space, in front of others. And sure, you don’t exactly like feeling so embarrassed, but…your words had been what sparked such a reaction from him.

“I still want you,” you admit quietly. Reaching one of your hands forward, you gently rest your palm on the swell of his chest—your eyes lingering on his lips. “It’s…okay, if you don’t feel the same, but—”

“I do,” he interrupts you, his finger cradling your jaw. He leans down to meet you half way—and you’re once again reminded just how big of a boy Beel is—pressing to your tippy-toes as you lean into him. He’s a little more cautious this time—his lips melding with yours gently.

You sigh at the sensation—your arms lifting to wrap around Beel’s neck as you intentionally deepen the kiss—urging him on. And he takes the bait, slotting his mouth against your own.

With each passing second, you feel the warmth in your belly expand—snaking all the way to the ends of your fingers and toes. At the same time, Beel’s tongue drags against your own, your shared kisses quickly becoming more passionate. His arms wrap around your waist—pulling you against him, but you still feel too far. So, he momentarily breaks the kiss—leaning down to grab the backs of your thighs. A cry of surprise leaves you as he hefts you up.

Beel really is the size of a small tree.

“Cute,” he laughs against your lips, your legs securing themselves around him. You smack your hand against his chest—embarrassed—but he quickly smothers any rebuttal you could have said with his lips. This time, he picks up where you left off—his tongue pushing into your mouth and stealing your breath away. You moan against him—your breasts flush with his chest, and the Avatar of Gluttony has never been so aware of that fact.

However—

“ _Mm_ \--!” you gasp as you feel something prominently poke against your womanhood through your jeans. Beel pulls back slightly, his cheeks dusted pink.

“I want you too,” he says, as if it isn’t already obvious. You heart thrums at his words, and you cup his face in your hands—pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Maybe we should get home, then.”

Beel nods, and your eyes widen as out of nowhere, his horns appear on his head. Without hesitation, the sixth born jumps into the air, and you old onto him for dear life—even as he shifts you so you’re being held in his arms bridal style.

“Gosh, I forget you can fly,” you breathe, watching his wings flutter behind him. Beel only chuckles, his head ducking down to nuzzle at your neck. You shiver, his tongue lapping over your skin.

“You taste good,” he mumbles, his teeth nipping at your throat, and you fight to keep from whining.

“Beel, just—wait, till we’re inside, please,” you beg, your fingers running through his hair. You swear you hear a small disappointed grunt, but nonetheless Beelzebub listens—his attention refocusing on getting you back to the House of Lamentation.

As you approach, Beel goes not to the front entrance, but instead circles around the large mansion until he finds the window he’s looking for. The glass pane pushes open without trouble, and when you send him a curious glance—his feet touching down on the upper balcony of the room he shares with Belphie—Beel shrugs.

“Belphie keeps a window open in case he ever needs to sneak out.”

Honestly, a part of you is curious to know where the hell Belphie needs to be sneaking off too, but right now, that’s not your priority. No, currently, you want nothing more than to quench the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs.

“C’mere,” you say, grabbing Beel by his collar. You drag him into another messy kiss—your other hand sliding down the hard planes of his stomach until you find what you’re looking for. A guttural sound bubbles up in Beel’s throat as your fingers trace the outline of his cock—the hard member trapped within the confines of his sweats and underwear.

 _Oh god, he’s huge_ , you realize, and the thought that you may not be able to fit him (while to some may seem scary) has your already soaking panties becoming even wetter. You want to feel him inside of you—stretching you out and filling you in all the right ways. Even if it hurts, even if tears wet your eyes, and you feel like you may split.

“No fair. I want to touch you too,” he mumbles, his hands dropping to your waist. He grabs the hem of your shirt—forcing you to break the kiss as he tugs the fabric right over your head. You flush red, but Beel is nice enough to even the playing field—dragging his own shirt off of his torso. It drops onto the floor beside your own, and you immediately reach forward—your fingers dragging the length of his abs.

“You really were made in heaven,” you whisper, and Beel’s face goes red at your praise—his dick twitching within it’s confines. He doesn’t know what to say—so he doesn’t bother responding with words. Instead, he cradles your jaw with one hand—his mouth settling against the opposite side of your neck. He begins biting and sucking at the soft skin, and your knees feel weak. A whine leaves you—one of your hands moving to grip his hair, while the other sinks down to the waistband of his sweats.

Your finger sneak beneath the layers of fabric, and Beel breathes a shaky, hot breath against you as your digits curl around his length. He’s thick, and hard—your hand too small to encompass his girth—but to Beel, any amount of friction feels like a taste of paradise.

As you slowly stroke him—tracing him from base to tip—the Avatar of Gluttony continues his feast on your neck. His tongue traces along your collarbone, teeth nibbling every so often, and you tug at his hair—a whine caught in your throat.

“ _Beel_ ,” you pant, and you feel his member twitch in response to your breathless tone. His touch slips from your face—his palm moving downward and splaying against your breast. He frowns when he realizes your bra is hiding the soft mound from his touch, and quickly moves to slides the strap from your shoulder. Once he’s done so, he shoves his hand beneath the padded cup—your nipple slotting between two of his fingers as he gives the flesh a squeeze. You gasp—your hand tightening around his length—and Beel retaliates in turn.

He rolls your nipple between his fingers—his sharp canines scraping against your skin as he gives your shoulder a playful bite. The action sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your womanhood, and you moan, your knees buckling.

Beel is quick to steady you, his arm moving to wrap around your waist. He rears back, glancing down at you—flushed pink and eyes blown out with lust—and knows that he won’t be able to control himself much longer.

“Let’s get somewhere more comfortable,” he says—an edge to his voice. Beelzebub bends down, as if he tends to pick you up once more, but pauses. His purple eyes stray to look at your bottom half—your legs still hugged by a pair of jeans, and he frowns.

“But first, I want to get you out of these.”

His fingers pop open the button on the waistband, the zipper following soon after, and you think your heart may beat right out of your chest.

“I-I can do it!” you say, bending over to push the fabric down your legs. Beel frowns, wanting to have continued undressing you himself, but as you fold yourself over—attempting to step out of your pants—you reveal your back to him. And, in turn, the clips of your bra, which is also still frustratingly in place (well, sort of).

So, the Avatar of Gluttony makes quick work of un-securing your bra—the undergarment quickly sliding down your arms and falling to the floor just as you finish stepping out of your jeans. Your eyes go wide in shock—the hot air between your bodies breezing across all of your freshly revealed skin.

“That’s better,” Beel smiles—a playful laugh sneaking past his lips. He reaches down and tosses you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing. You squeal, one of his hands securing you around your waist. The other rests on the inside of your thighs, but as Beel makes his way to the spiral staircase that leads down to the main area of the room, you feel his fingers brush up against your panties.

You bite your lip, your fingernails pressing small crescents into the skin of his shoulder blades as Beel moves the crotch of your underwear aside. A single digit pushes between your wet walls.

“More,” you breathe almost instantly, your hips wiggling in his hold. Beel listens faithfully, adding a second. He begins to work you open slowly—your juices rushing over his skin and a quiet moan leaving you. Beel curls his fingers as he fucks you—your legs jolting when he finds your sweet spot, and he grunts happily in response.

With each step down the stairs, his cock bounces within its confines, and Beel desperately misses your touch, which had granted him some relief. You’re so small in comparison to him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’s also aware of what you desire. So, he presses a third finger inside of you—your breath hitching as your pussy finally begins to feel the stretch.

“Too much?” he asks, stepping from the staircase. His eyes scan the room—he hadn’t even considered checking to see if Belphie was in—but luckily there’s no sign of his brother.

While Beel isn’t as greedy as Mammon, and doesn’t usually mind sharing, tonight he wants you to himself.

“No,” you respond, shaking your head. Your toes curl as his long digits press all the way inside of you. “It feels— _ah_ —really good.”

Beel steps beside his bed, and gently lowers you to the mattress—his fingers never leaving you. His gaze rakes down your body—soaking in the sight of your bare torso, and the needy look on your face as he thrusts his fingers into you once more. Your pussy clenches around him, and the Avatar of Gluttony leans down to kiss you.

“Y/N, I don’t want to hu—”

“I want you. All of you,” you interrupt him, gripping his face between your palms. There’s hesitancy knitting on his forehead, his lips frowning, and you kiss him again—smiling.

“I want your big dick inside of me, Beel.”

“ _Mm_ ,” he groans at your words, his finger wetly dragging out of your cunt. You mourn the loss, eyes tracking Beel as he _finally_ reaches to his hips, pushing his sweats and underwear down his thighs. His cock springs free, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

As Beel rids himself of his remaining clothes, you sit up—reaching out. Your hands enclose around him—two hands needed to cover the entirety of his girth. Beel releases a shaky sigh at the feeling, his palm resting against your hair as you lean in—lapping your tongue against the bead of pre-cum leaking from his slit.

Beel watches you like a hawk—his fingers rooting in your hair as you continue to kiss and lick at his length. His member throbs in your hold, and a sense of pride settles in your chest. Gathering spit on your tongue, you drag the wet muscle against a prominent vein on the underside of Beel’s shaft, and you’re rewarded with a tug of your hair.

Beel guides your head away, and you glance up, spotting his flushed cheeks.

“Don’t do that,” he says, clearly enjoying it too much—risking that the fun end too soon—and you smile, your touch disappearing from him. It’s then that Beel steps aside, kneeling against the mattress and positioning himself against the headboard. He beckons you forward—holding out his hand—and you take it after pausing to reach down and discard your panties.

He drags you up to meet him, watching as you swing your leg across his body, settling on the upper parts of his thighs. His dick sits curved against his abs, and you reach down, taking it into your hand and holding it up straight. It nearly reaches your navel…

“Oh fuck,” you say, your walls clenching. You press onto your knees—Beel’s hands finding your waist. He lifts you from the mattress, helping position your body over his pelvis. With your grip on his length, you place the head of his cock at your entrance.

Steeling himself, Beel lowers you down—your walls tight around him as he slowly sinks inside of you. You moan at the feeling—your hands moving to press against his pecs to steady yourself. With his hands still guiding you, Beel urges you even further—pausing when your breath hitches—your pussy clenching around him.

“F-Feels good. So _big_ ,” you say, reassuring him that you’re fine before he can even think to ask. Beel can see the ecstasy painted on your face, and it drives him forward. He captures your lips in a heated kiss—his tongue stealing your breath away as it enters your mouth. You moan into him—Beel swallowing your sounds as he forces you to take more of his length.

You’ve never been so full before—inklings of pain letting your brain know that it may not be a good idea to venture so deep so quickly—but you’ve never cared less. In this moment, you want nothing more than to wholly be Beel’s.

And besides—there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of pain. In fact, one may argue that it actually makes it better.

“ _Fuck--_ ,” you pant, breaking the kiss for a much-needed breath of air. Your fingernails have curled into Beel’s skin—nerves on fire as he continues to slowly inch you down onto him. Heat expands throughout your limbs, fire licking at the inside of your stomach as you waver on the border of pain and pleasure. However, when you glance up at Beel’s face as see his pinched eyebrows, his eyelashes fluttering as your tight pussy grips him so deliciously—you’re reminded that this is exactly what you wanted.

Finally, after what feels like forever—but in reality, is likely less than a minute—your thighs brush the inside of Beel’s hips. The head of his cock pushes up against your cervix as he bottoms out inside of you, and you choke on a cry. Beel’s chest rises and falls rapidly beneath your palms. He’s never felt so good in his life—and despite the fact that he desperately wants to buck up into you, he knows he still needs to give you time to adjust.

So, he reaches a hand around the back of your head and guides your body forward. His mouth connects with the soft mounds of flesh on your chest—tongue flattening against your nipple—and your spine instinctively curves—pressing you closer to him.

Beel continues to alternate between your breasts—sucking, lapping, and nipping at the sensitive skin—until he finally feels your hips move against his. The action is slow, and experimental—as if testing the waters—but despite the fact that you still feel as if you may burst, the pain has died down. Now, all that’s left in its place is an overwhelming need for release.

Beel fights to contain himself as you begin rolling your body against his own—your tight, slick walls hugging his dick and dragging him closer to his demise with each passing second.

“ _Y/N_ ,” he breathes, a plea caught on his tongue, and you move one of your hands to cup his face.

“You can move,” you tell him with a smile, and immediately Beel is wrapping his arms around you—hugging you to his chest. He scoots away from the headboard, his head now resting on his pillows, and you realize he’s aiming for better leverage. However, before you can think to ask if he wants you to adjust your position, Beel begins fucking up into you. You cry out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you hold onto him for dear life.

“ _F-Fuck_ , _Beel_ ,” you moan, your breath hot on his skin. Lewd, wet sounds echo through the room with each smack of Beel’s hips, and you feel your legs begin to shake. You’ve never been so full—your walls being stretched out by his cock with each desperate thrust.

His breathing is heavy in your ear—his grip on your torso leaving no wiggle room. You’re subject to whatever Beel is craving—which is apparently a hot and heavy path to release—and you don’t even mind. Each drag of his length between your walls has the coil of pleasure in your gut winding tighter—more and more whines slipping past your lips, and Beel has never heard anything more beautiful.

“Aah--!” you cry when he adjusts his angle ever so slightly, his cock brushing up against your g-spot. Immediately you’re seeing stars, body going limp in Beel’s hold. He feels your arousal dripping down his member and onto his thighs. You’ve gotten so wet for him that he never should have worried about you not being able to take him.

“ _Y/N_ ,” he groans, unable to help himself. Your pussy is swallowing him so deliciously, he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to last like this. Thankfully, you’re getting close—little chants of “Beel” “close” “please” reaching his ear.

Beel feels your pussy begin to tighten around him—your spine curving in his hold—and he knows this is it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you moan, tears appearing in your eyes as the pleasure surging throughout your body suddenly overwhelms you. Your teeth latch onto his shoulder—a desperate attempt at keeping yourself from screaming—and Beel’s rhythm stutters.

“Shit,” he breathes, beginning to lose himself, but you beat him to the finish line. With a muffled cry, you come undone around him—your pussy latching onto Beel’s cock as your orgasm swells into every inch of your body. The increased pressure on his length forces the Avatar of Gluttony to his bliss as well—shallow breaths fanning against your hair as he empties himself inside of you.

For a moment, the two of you are still—simply trying to catch your breath as you begin to come down from your highs. Then, you feel Beel’s softening length slip from inside of you—his cum leaking from your pussy—and your eyes go wide. You look up at him, face bright red, but Beel only smiles.

He presses himself up into a seated position with one arm—the other still intent on not letting you go—and then slots his lips against yours. You melt into the kiss—soft, and tender, and just what you need.

“I really enjoyed that,” you tell him, lifting your hands to cup his face.

“Me too,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. However—

_Grrrrrrrrr_

You and Beel both pause, looking down at the space between your bodies. Beel moves a hand to settle against his stomach.

“Oh, I guess I haven’t had anything to eat since before I went to the gym.”

“I’m surprised you’re still alive,” you snort, and Beel chuckles—swooping in to kiss you once more before his hands find your waist and lift you off of him.

“Do you want anything from the kitchen?” he asks, scooting off the bed. You watch him as he grabs his sweats from the floor, slipping them back on over his legs. You realize from his question that he fully expects you to spend the remainder of the night here, with him, and your heart flutters.

“I’ll snack on whatever you bring back,” you tell him, and Beel nods. Not bothering to put on a shirt, the Avatar of Gluttony heads to the door. Within seconds, you’re alone in the room, and you move to the edge of the mattress. You press your feet to the ground, gasping when your legs wobble—threatening to give out.

 _He really fucked me so good that I can barely walk_ , you think, cheeks pink. Your eyes turn to the spiral staircase. You had been intending to go upstairs and get your clothes, but you don’t want to risk tripping and hurting yourself.

So, instead you cautiously make your way to Beel’s dresser. You dig out a long t-shirt, and then head into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you return to the main room—Beel’s clean shirt covering your torso.

You’ve just replanted yourself on his bed when the door clicks open. Your gaze turns up, expecting to see Beel standing there with mountain of food in his arms, but instead you find…Belphegor.

He’s frowning at you, suspicion in his gaze. His eyes rake around the room, pupils narrowed.

“You’re wearing Beel’s shirt,” he finally says.

“My clothes were dirty,” you counter. Belphie cocks an eyebrow—a grin tugging at his lips.

“Okay. Then explain the hickies on your neck, and why the room currently reeks of sex.”

At that…you can only turn red, and Belphegor sighs. He opens his mouth, as if to complain, but then pauses. His eyes widen, gaze raking over you once more.

“… _you_ fit _him_?”

And now, you really think you might die of embarrassment.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: Please leave a review if you liked it! Receiving comments is honestly the best part of my day, and what keeps me going.
> 
> And, if you want to interact on a more personal level--go check me out @dom-joonie on tumblr! (I promise I'm not scary, and need more people to talk to/follow who like OM)


	8. Post Workout Snack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
> 
> I promise I'm still working on Asmo's chapter. But this idea was stuck in my head and I HAD to write it. Like...I literally wrote it...all today.
> 
> Wow. I'm....feral rn.

**Pairing** : Belphegor x Beelzebub x Reader

 **Word Count** : 4,770

 **Preview** : Belphegor gets jealous over your obvious love-making with Beel. (A sequel to ch 7)

"Y/N just admitted that she likes me too, so...If you promise that we can share, I’ll let you have a snack, Beel.”

* * *

**Recap:**

_You’ve just replanted yourself on his bed when the door clicks open. Your gaze turns up, expecting to see Beel standing there with mountain of food in his arms, but instead you find…Belphegor._

_He’s frowning at you, suspicion in his gaze. His eyes rake around the room, pupils narrowed._

_“You’re wearing Beel’s shirt,” he finally says._

_“My clothes were dirty,” you counter. Belphie cocks an eyebrow—a grin tugging at his lips._

_“Okay. Then explain the hickies on your neck, and why the room currently reeks of sex.”_

_At that…you can only turn red, and Belphegor sighs. He opens his mouth, as if to complain, but then pauses. His eyes widen, gaze raking over you once more._

_“…you fit him?”_

_And now, you really think you might die of embarrassment._

* * *

“I…,” you struggle to respond, not even sure what’s appropriate to say. It’s obvious you can’t lie to Belphegor about what had happened between you and Beel. There’s too much evidence left behind.

Heat spreading across your skin once more, your hide your face behind your palms, sighing deeply. You hear Belphie laugh—the sound teasing more than anything. Footfalls thump against the wooden floor, and you pause—peeking through your fingers.

Belphegor is already at your side—grinning down at you.

“You know,” he says, and you squeal as he suddenly presses his hand against your chest, shoving you down onto Beel’s bed. His fingers scoot up to your neck—pressing against your jaw and forcing your head to the side.

“It’s pretty rude of you two to have fun in _our_ room and not invite me.”

His tongue presses against the fresh red marks on your neck—dragging across the sensitive skin—and a whine leaves your lips, your body instinctively writhing beneath him.

“B-Belphie?”

Arousal blossoms in your gut once more—your thighs squeezing together. Internally, you curse. First you spill your feelings for Beel and receive the best dick you’ve ever had in your life, but now Belphie too?? You know that he’s a little shit who loves to tease but…is he really upset that you and Beel had done something without him? You hadn’t expected him to be so bold like this…

“And apparently you can fit my monster of a brother, so I shouldn’t be an issue, right?” he breathes, his teeth nipping at your ear. You release a shaky breath, your hands moving to press against his chest, and he relents slightly. His purple eyes fall on you—flustered, and embarrassed—but he can tell by the quick rise and fall of your chest and the way your nipples are hard against Beel’s shirt that you’re horny yet again.

“Don’t you like me too?” he asks, a pout on his face as he moves his hands to settle against your chest. His palms cup the outside of your breasts, squishing them together—the pads of his thumbs rubbing across your nipples. You twitch at the sensation, your eyes locking with his. Despite the frown on his lips, you can see the playful sparkle in his eyes.

“I-I do like you, Belphie, I p-promise—,” with each of your words, he continues flicking his thumbs against your sensitive buds—his fingers massaging and squeezing your soft breasts—and your words begin to catch in your throat.

“As much as you like Beel?” he questions, his hands reaching down and slipping beneath Beel’s shirt. You flush even redder, eyes trailing on the space between your bodies as he pushes the shirt above your chest. You hadn’t bothered to put back on your underwear after Beel had left, and Belphie immediately realizes that fact as well.

Shameless, he regains his grip on your breast with one hand—the other sinking between your thighs and pressing between your folds. You jump as his fingers touch your clit—the bundle of nerves still sensitive from earlier. His digits quickly become slick with your arousal, and he glances up at you once more.

“Would you get this wet for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe almost immediately. Your eyes are blown wide once again—heart thrumming in your chest and arousal swirling in your gut. Belphie laughs at the sight, leaning down to meet you.

“Good,” he says, and then his lips find yours. You moan into the kiss, your arms lifting to wrap around him. His tongue pushes into your mouth—swallowing your quiet gasps and whines.

It’s clear to you that Belphie is intent on making up for missed experiences—for, as well as the twins get along, he’s upset that Beel didn’t share you.

“ _Mmm_ ,” you groan when he gives your breast a rough squeeze, and you feel Belphie’s hand begin to move back towards your womanhood when all of the sudden he pauses. The Avatar of Sloth sits back, his eyes glancing over his shoulder towards the door. Then, he looks back at you—smiling.

You raise your eyebrows.

“Wha--?”

Before you even get a chance to finish, Belphie has grabbed your wrist. He tugs you up into a seated position, and you squeal at the unexpected action—trying to watch him as he positions himself behind you. You feel his hard-on press against your ass—his arms looping around your thighs and forcing your legs open.

“ _Belphie_ ,” you whine, your legs attempting to press closed, but he doesn’t allow you. His mouth finds your neck, giving one of the already sore hickies a poignant suck, and you shiver in his hold.

“Be good and spread your pussy for me,” he says, tone serious, and you shake your head—the idea far too embarrassing. He sighs—fingernails curling into your thighs and his teeth nipping at your throat.

“You trust me, don’t you? _Do it_.”

You hesitate for a moment, but decide to listen. Slowly, you move a hand between your legs—your fingers making a V and revealing your womanhood. It’s slick with your own wetness—a mixture of cum and arousal leaking from your needy hole.

Belphie reaffirms his grip on you—forcing your thighs even farther apart, and just as you’re about to ask once more why exactly he has commanded you to do something so lewd, the door handle twists. Your heart jumps into your throat, legs straining against his hold, but of course Belphie doesn’t allow you to budge. His lips press at your neck, gaze steady on the doorway as Beel finally appears.

He’s got a mountain of snacks held in his arms—his cheeks already packed to the brim with food.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice muffled. He hasn’t noticed your predicament yet—his foot kicking backwards to close the door. “I got some snacks for us.”

He steps forward—intending to head to his side of the room—and finally his gaze falls upon his bed. Immediately Beel’s eyes go wide, and he harshly swallows the food in his mouth. He says nothing, the shock clear on his face as his eyes rake your body—lingering on your pussy. It’s pink and used from your session early—Beel’s seed still lingering inside of you—and the Demon of Gluttony feels his cock begin to get hard once more.

“I see you two had some fun while I was gone,” Belphie speaks up, catching his brothers’ attention. Beel’s eyes shift to Belphegor—the younger demon running his tongue against the love bites Beel had gifted you, and once again causing you to shiver. A look of guilt washes over Beelzebub.

“Belphie…”

Said demon locks eyes with his brother—giving your ear a nip. A small whine bubbles up in your throat.

“You know I don’t like being left out,” Belphegor says seriously, frowning. Beel steps forward, clearly torn on what to say, but his gaze never leaves you. Despite his conflicting emotions, he can’t seem to tear himself from the sight of your shining pussy, and Belphegor can’t blame him.

“I…I’m sorry Belphie, it just happened. You know how I feel about Y/N…”

“I know,” the younger demon responds. He grinds his hips against your back, and you gasp, feeling his cock against your spine. “And you know how I feel about her too.”

For a second, you swear you can almost _see_ Beel’s heart break. He cares about his brother more than anything in this world, and you know he would never do anything to purposely hurt Belphegor.

You’re just about to open your mouth and defend the sixth oldest when Belphie continues.

“ _But_ …Y/N just admitted that she likes me too, so…,” his fingers brush against your thigh as he moves his grip to your pussy—his hand joining your own and forcing you to spread your lips even father. As you flush in embarrassment, he grins up at his brother.

“If you promise that we can share, I’ll let you have a snack.”

Beel licks his lips, the food in his arms slowly falling to the ground as he forgets about the snacks he had intended to eat. Belphie laughs in your ear, kissing your neck softly as Beel begins making his way towards the bed.

“You can handle the both of us at once, right?” he teases, his hands leaving your legs as Beel crawls onto the mattress. The Avatar of Gluttony grabs you by your hips—dragging you down the messy sheets until your pussy is aligned with his mouth. You gasp, your hands moving to cling against Belphegor’s legs as Beel flattens his tongue between your folds.

Immediately, he’s eating you out like a starved man—his tongue pressing into you, gathering up your arousal and even the remnants of his own. Luckily, the realization that your mingled tastes are melding on his tongue is a huge turn-on for Beel—a moan tearing from his throat as his cock strains against the bed.

For a moment, you can only focus on the feel of Beel’s mouth against your womanhood—sucking and licking you into a state of complete bliss—but a movement beneath you forces you remember the two of you aren’t alone.

Thanks to Beel dragging you from your previous position, your head had landed on Belphie’s lap. And as much fun as it was having your skull crushing his dick against his leg…Belphie desires something a little more…pleasurable.

So, Belphegor lifts your head and scoots to the side of the mattress. He presses to his feet, shoving his sweats down his thighs, and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock. While he’s not nearly as big as Beel, he’s still above average, and at this point you’re pretty convinced that _all_ of the brothers are likely the same. (Whether it’s because they’re demons, or because they’re simply blessed, you’re not sure).

“C’mon,” he says, canting his hips forward. You huff, dragging your top half towards him as Beel holds your lower half in place—his lips sealing around your clit and sucking. Your breath leaves your lungs, arms shaking beneath you, and Belphie prods his length against your cheek—his pre-cum smearing against your skin.

“You’re impatient,” you comment, eyes glancing up at him as you reach over—grabbing his cock with your hand. You trail your tongue along the underside of his shaft, and Belphie’s fingers lace through your hair.

“Beel already had his fun,” he says, half lidded gaze watching you as your tongue sneaks out to swirl against the head of his dick. “Now it’s my turn.”

With that, he drags your head forward and shoves his dick into your mouth. Your eyes go wide—tears wetting your lashes as you gag around him.

“Eyes on me,” he commands quietly, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek. He guides you along his length—his grip on your hair loosening ever so slightly.

“I guess I was wrong in assuming you could deepthroat since you managed to take Beel,” he says with a quiet laugh, your gazes locking. “I’ll try not to make you gag too much.”

A tiny grin tugs at his lips as he says it, and you know from his phrasing that he doesn’t intend on being _totally_ nice.

“ _Mmph--!_ ” you cry, the sound vibrating against Belphie’s cock as Beel’s teeth sink into your thigh. While Belphie had been busy making you choke on his dick, Beel had moved away from your pussy—his tongue and lips dragging against the supple skin of your thigh.

“ _Mm_ …you taste…so good,” he breathes, tongue lapping over the fresh bite mark. Your hips instinctively wiggle in his hold, missing the feeling of friction on your pussy, but Beel doesn’t seem to notice. He continues nipping at your thighs—coloring them red with love bites. All the while, Belphie continues to guide you along his member—your eyes struggling to stay on his as you suck him.

Admitted, the prolonged eye contact only serves in making you wetter—the walls of your pussy clenching around nothing as you work. You whine around him, hand moving to press against his hip. You squeeze, a begging look in your eye, but Belphie only laughs.

“What? You want more? Fine. Beel,” he calls, and the mattress shifts.

“Dresser,” the youngest speaks, his eyes still not straying from you. A second later, Beel’s touch leaves you. You lift your head, attempting to see what he’s going to get at Belphie’s command, but the Avatar of Sloth tugs at your hair, reminding you of where your eyes should be. Immediately your gazes reconnect, and Belphie fucks his hips forward, forcing you to gag on his cock.

Your eyes roll back momentarily, tears pooling on your lower lashes, and Belphie soothes his thumb against your cheek.

“You’re doing so well,” he tells you, and you whine once more—aching to be touched. You’re already weak following your earlier round with Beel, and you’re not sure how much of their teasing you can take. As much as you want to be good for him, and do as he asks without complaint, your body is craving something greater.

On the other end of the room, you hear a drawer open, and close. Footfalls near the bed, and after a moment the mattress dips—marking Beel’s return. He settles back between your legs, and you hear a bottle clicking open. However, with your lips still suctioned around Belphie’s length—spit beginning to drip down your chin—you don’t have much of a brain to think on it.

That is…until you feel something prodding at your ass.

You gasp around Belphegor, his dick beginning to slip from your mouth as you turn to look at Beel, but once again the youngest demon reaffirms his grip on your hair, tugging you back.

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” he tells you softly, the head of his cock resting against your lips as you take a much-needed breather. You tense as you feel Beel slip two of his long digits inside of you—assisted by the bottle of lube he had retrieved. The feeling is foreign, but not completely unwelcome.

Unused to the intrusion, your ass clenches around him, and Beel leans back in—his tongue lapping against your pussy as he begins to slowly work you open.

“Good?” Belphie questions, and you nod, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. Arousal burns bright in his eyes at your submission, his cock twitching against you.

“Good girl,” he speaks, an edge to his voice as he enters your mouth once more. You mindlessly maintain eye contact, allowing Belphie to use your mouth as he pleases, and he does. He picks up the pace—dragging his cock against your tongue as he ventures deeper, causing you to choke more frequently. Each time he does, Beel feels your pussy and ass contract around him—your arousal coating his tongue.

With the multiple sensations assaulting you, your brain becomes distracted from the fingers stretching your ass open, which works well in Beel’s favor. Within a short amount of time, he’s able to slip a third digit in—a moan leaving your lips rather than a cry.

Currently, all you feel is a need for _more_ , and your body will take it in any form it can get.

“Touch me,” you beg when Belphie pauses to allow you to breathe. He obliges without issue, reaching down to grab Beel’s shirt. He tugs it over your head—his hands moving to settle on your tits—and when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, a moan leaves you. Your hips grind against Beel’s face, sucking his fingers dipper into your ass, and the red head curses.

His dick feels like it might explode soon—neglected of his own volition as he focuses on you instead. However, his self-control likely won’t last for much longer.

“Belphie,” he speaks, throat tight. The younger brother meets his desperate gaze—Beel’s tongue darting out to wet his lips. Belphegor understands his brother’s predicament—especially as he forces his way into your mouth yet again. It’s beginning to become a struggle for himself—to not take advantage of you and spill his seed down your throat.

“One more,” the Avatar of Sloth tells him, and Beel nods, his hand giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. A moment later, you gasp around Belphie’s cock, tensing against the sheets as Beel inserts a fourth and final finger into your ass.

“Relax,” Belphie says softly, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. He allows you to catch your breath, but doesn’t pull his length from your mouth. At the same time, Beel laps his tongue against your clit, trying to drown out any pain with pleasure in an attempt to get you to relax.

“Let us know when it stops hurting,” Beel speaks, his digits slowly pumping in and out of you. Despite wanting to listen, your hips continue to jolt as his fingers move, and Belphie sighs. Reaching down, he gives one of your tits a squeeze—languidly rolling your nipple between his fingers. Carefully, he also matches Beel’s pace—his cock shallowly fucking into your mouth.

“ _Relax_ ,” he tells you again, and you take a deep breath—finally managing to do so. Beel senses the change almost instantly, his tongue pressing between your walls. His fingers work at your ass a bit faster, and soon enough you’re once again grinding against him—only feeling pleasure.

The two brothers share a look, nodding.

“ _Hah—,_ ” you breathe hotly as Belphie pulls his length from your mouth. In the same beat, Beel wraps his free hand around your back and pulls you into a seated position. You press your hands against his chest, blinking in surprise, but waste no time leaning up to kiss him.

Beel’s eyes widen, but he’s quick to reciprocate—his hand moving grip your hair as he deepens the kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue.

“Hey, don’t forget about me.”

You feel a hand on your wrist, and all of the sudden you’re being tugged from Beel. His fingers slip from inside of you, and you whine at the loss—but Belphegor swallows the sound.

“Face me,” he commands in between kisses, and you shift your body so your chests are pressed together. Belphie hums contently against your lips, and you feel his hand reach between your bodies. A second later, he’s gripping your hips—angling them forward as his cock presses at your entrance.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you breathe, his length sinking inside of you. Your head rolls back, fingers gripping at his shoulders as you finally gain the much-needed stretch of a cock between your walls. Belphie laughs, dragging you into another kiss, and you feel another pair of hands settle on your waist—something hard pressing on the curve of your ass.

Your eyes go wide.

“W-Wait--,” you say, pushing away from Belphie. “I don’t know if—”

“We won’t hurt you, Y/N. We promise,” Beel whispers against your neck, making you shiver. Belphie’s hand slides through your hair, settling on the back of your head. He leans forward to kiss you, drowning out any of your worries with his lips. At the same time, Beel presses soft kisses to your neck, his cock pressing at your anus.

With Belphie’s cock already stuffing your pussy, your ass is not nearly as easy to penetrate as it had been before, but with both boys doing their best to make you relax—Beel finally manages to slip the first few inches of his length inside of you. Almost instantly you’re crying out—spine going tense as your fingernails dig into Belphie’s shoulders.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses—your pussy clenching around him in response to the intrusion of your other hole. Beel doesn’t seem to be faring any better, his eyebrow knit tightly on his forehead.

They need you to loosen up or the fun will end without ever really beginning.

“You’re doing so well,” Beel tells you, pressing light kisses behind your ear and against your jaw. Belphie joins in, massaging your scalp with his fingers as he connects your lips once more.

“We want to make you feel good, Y/N,” Belphie reassures, and you nod against him, taking a deep breath in through your nose.

“I know,” you say, and then meet his eyes, blushing. “And I…like this. A lot.”

Belphegor grins. “I figured you would if you were so willingly taking dick like Beel’s. You’re a little size queen, aren’t you? Like being stuffed?”

You open your mouth to respond, but a cry comes out instead—Beel’s cock pressing even farther inside of you. Your body shakes—overwhelmed with how _full_ you are—and Beel breathes heavily behind you.

“Just a little bit more, Y/N. Can you handle it?”

You lean forward, resting your head against Belphie’s shoulder, and nod. Biting his lip, Beel grabs your hips and with one final push bottoms out inside of you. Immediately there are tears in your eyes—your mind going fuzzy. You body feels like it’s on fire—every nerve ending screaming as you attempt to adjust to the girth of them both. The fact that you’ve managed to take them fully inside of you turns you on in a way words can’t describe, and honestly, it feels like your brain is short-circuiting.

“Mmm, you feel so good,” Beel moans, his arms wrapping around you. His big hands settle against your tits, giving the flesh a soft squeeze, and you whine. Belphie glances over at you—feeling your quick breathes fanning against his skin—and frowns.

He’s just about to ask if you’re alright when your voice enters the space around them.

“Move,” you say, and the two brothers pause.

“Are you sure?” Belphie asks, although his heart thrums with anticipation. You nod, sitting back and holding his face between your palms. Your cheeks are pink, eyes blown wide, and lips swollen from all the kissing (and dick-sucking).

You’re really starting to look like a tired, fucked out cock slut.

“ _Move_.”

And they do—not willing to wait a second longer.

Beel moves first—dragging his dick out until only the tip is left inside of you, and then shoving it back in. As he fills you, Belphegor pulls back—the drag of their cocks inside of you alternating like clockwork. The sensation has your breath hitching, embarrassing sounds slipping past your lips as you hug yourself to Belphegor—burying your face against his neck.

Your entire body shakes—overwhelmed with pleasure. You feel as if you’re seconds away from snapping—pushed to your limits thanks to the two youngest brothers.

“Don’t hide,” Beel pants, upset at not being able to see you. Reaching forward, he grabs your shoulder and guides you back against his chest. Your eyes find his—unfocused—brain struggling to keep up with all the different feelings—and Beel swallows, his dick twitching inside of you.

“Hold onto me,” he says, guiding one of your arms to his neck, and you do as you’re told. Your arms wrap around his neck—spine curving and ass pressing down against his dick as he penetrates you. And honestly, Belphie isn’t mad at Beel’s command, because now he’s able to see all of you—your sweat-sheened skin, the bounce of your breasts, and even the way his cock disappears within you—shining with your arousal.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he curses to himself, his hands finding your waist as Beel’s own hands find purchase on your breasts. He gropes the sensitive mounds as he fucks you, reveling in the way you’re unable to hold your sounds back any longer. At every thrust of his or Belphie’s dick, you’re crying out—moaning, gasping, and whining.

“ _Hah_ , I wanna cum,” Belphie breathes, biting his lip. “You feel so good, Y/N…”

“I’m— _ah—_ getting close too,” Beel admits, his tongue dragging against your neck. Your fingers knot in his orange hair, and you fight to find your words as your body and brain melt under their assault.

“C-Clit,” you manage to say, barely able to get the word out before another cry is falling from your lips. The two brothers share a look, and almost immediately Belphie is reaching down—his fingers slipping between your sopping folds and locating the sensitive bud. As soon as he touches it—two of his digits rubbing quick circles against the bundle of nerves, any preservations you had left are ripped away.

You sob, holding onto Beel for dear life as the two demons reach their breaking point. They forget about their previous give-and-take rhythm, fucking up into you in tandem, and tears roll down your cheeks. The heat in your belly reaches a new level of intensity, every part of you on fire, and then…the calm before the storm washes over you.

For a brief moment, everything dies down—your eyelashes flutter shut, every inch of your body relaxing—and then everything snaps.

“ _Fu-ck_!” you cry, voice catching in your throat as you come undone. You go slack, arms falling from around Beel, and he wraps an arm around your chest—holding you up as your body rides out the pleasure. Your pussy and ass clench around their cocks—gripping them so strongly that it’s nearly impossible to move—and Belphie curses.

“Shit.” With one last thrust inside of you, he finds his release. Beel isn’t far behind. The Avatar of Gluttony breathes shakily, grinding his hips against your ass once, twice, and again, before he too finds his bliss.

Together, the twins empty themselves inside of you—the three of you leaning against each other for support as exhaustion begins to set in. Then, once the two demons have caught their breath, they slowly move from inside of you. Beel holds you steady—dried tear tracks staining your cheeks as your body shakes with aftershocks.

Belphie pulls out first, scooting back and reaching out to take you from Beel. You whine as you’re passed off, your arms tiredly moving to hug Belphie as Beel grabs your waist—slowly removing his length from your ass. Almost instantly their cum is dripping down your legs, your holes squeezing around nothing as you readjust to the feeling of not being stuffed with cock.

“Hey,” Beel speaks, his palm finding your cheek as Belphie helps lower you to the mattress. You crack an eye open, glancing up at him. Beel frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Very,” you respond, smiling a little. You lean into his touch. “I’m just…really tired.”

“Makes sense,” Belphie laughs, running his hand through your hair. Your eyes shift between them, but you don’t move. You don’t think you can—everything feels like jelly.

“C’mon,” Beel says, and his arms wrap around you. A second later, you’re lifted from his mattress. He turns and pads towards Belphie’s half of the room, the younger demon walking alongside you, and when Belphegor sees your questioning stare, he explains.

“Beel’s bed is…dirty. Mine is not.”

“Ah,” you respond, and Beel leans over, setting you on top of Belphie’s purple sheets. Immediately you curl up, your head settling on the pillows and your eyes closing. Exhaustion washes over you, and the brothers watch as you quickly descend towards slumber.

“Maybe we should clean her up…,” Belphie suggests, and Beel nods. The two move to head towards the bathroom, but your voice stops them.

“No. Stay,” you pout, reaching out. Like a puppy, Beel immediately returns to your side. Belphie frowns at you.

“We were just gonna—”

“I don’t care. Stay. Please,” you whisper, tone pleading. You feel vulnerable after such an intense experience, and desperately want them to stay close to you.

Belphegor breathes a laugh. “Fine.”

With that, the brothers join you in bed—Beel spooning you from the back while Belphie holds you from the front. Their warmth immediately soaks into your bones, and you sigh—content.

“If I can’t walk tomorrow, you two are going to have to explain to the others why that is.”

Belphegor snorts. “We’ll just keep you in our room all day.”

“I’ll bring you food to eat,” Beel chimes in, his lips pressing against the crown of your head, and you laugh.

“Alright—just don’t fuck me so passionately if you get horny tomorrow, okay? I need to walk at some point.”

The two are quiet.

“Guys?”

“…no promises,” they chorus, and you roll your eyes.

Oh, just what have you gotten yourself into?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please feel free to interact with me @dom-joonie on tumblr. And if you enjoyed: leave a comment! They make my day :)


	9. Of Nudes And Praise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flops*
> 
> Hi it's me, your friendly neighborhood smut writer. I'm sorry about the wait for Asmo's chapter, my writer brain checked out for a few days.
> 
> However, now it's here! And with every brother now successfully having a chapter of their own, I won't feel bad writing whatever I feel like xD yipee!
> 
> Anyway! I hope everyone enjoys! I didn't plan on it being this long, yet...here we are.
> 
> Love me.

**Pairing** : Asmodeus x Reader

 **Word Count** : 6,071

 **Preview** : You've been feeling...needy...and decide to ask Asmodeus for some help.

And by that, you mean if he can spare you any toys.

However, when the Avatar of Lust is involved, you tend to get more than what you bargained for.

* * *

When you’d first arrived in the Devildom—overwhelmed with the new situation and all you had to learn—you’d accidentally forgotten about some important, basic tasks.

Like doing laundry.

You hadn’t thought to ask about cleaning your clothes until 2 weeks in, when you’d had nothing to wear but a pair of pajamas. Thankfully, at that point you’d been comfortable enough around Mammon to ask him if they had a place to do their laundry (which of course they did), and you’d spent the entire weekend washing and folding clothes.

And then, when you started to break out, you’d remembered that skin care was a thing too. Asmodeus had been kind enough to give you some products to use, and you were always grateful for all of the boy’s hospitality.

Now, months later, you’ve mostly remembered all the little things you should be doing. Except…

Your fingers reach between your legs, pressing at your aching clit. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten off, and ever since the realization struck you a few days ago, you’ve only managed to work yourself up.

“C’mon,” you hiss, biting your lip as you lean forward, your forearm resting on the vanity in your bathroom. The room is humid from your shower—fog coating the mirror in front of you, but even so you can see the look of desperation on your face.

You _really_ need to cum. Just once. Once is all you need, really. Just enough so you can clear your head. Then, you bet you’ll be fine.

“Come _on_!” you huff, your hand still working between your legs, but you know it’s no use. With a sigh, you give up—head hanging in defeat. You’ve never been good at getting off without a trusty toy, and at this point you’re just starting to rub yourself raw.

Frowning, a little disgruntled, you stand tall and run a hand through your damp hair. There’s an unsatisfied ache in your gut, and you try your best to ignore it as you return to your bedroom and rummage around for clean clothes to wear. However, the more you attempt to ignore it, the more you crave release, and it doesn’t take long for you to break down.

Pulling on a hoodie and a pair of leggings, you exit your room—making your way to the one person you’re sure will help.

…one way or another.

* * *

_Knock Knock_

“Oh, who could it be~!” A sing-song voice calls from the other side of the door, and you’re tempted to roll your eyes.

“It’s me!” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hear footfalls getting closer. After a few seconds, the door is opened, and you find Asmo grinning back at you.

“Oh, my dear~ This is an unexpected, albeit welcome visit. What can I do for you?”

Without waiting for your response, he turns on his heel and strides back into his room. You assume that’s his way of inviting you in, and you step inside—closing the door behind you. For a moment, you simply watch him. He’s dressed only in a robe—makeup sprawled across his vanity, and his hair pinned on his head thanks to a butterfly clip. From the look of it, he’s going out tonight—which doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“Hmm, I don’t mind if you stare, Y/N—I do know I’m beautiful—but I have to get going soon, ya know?” the Avatar of Lust pipes up, staring at you through the vanity mirror. When you flush red in embarrassment, he winks.

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“I, um…,” you start, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes scan the floor at your feet, and Asmo’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He’s never seen you quite so flustered before.

“I…was wondering if you can hook me up with some… _toys_?” you say, although you end in a squeak. Honestly, on your way here you had been determined to just be casual about it. After all, this is Asmo! He loves to talk about sex, and anything of the like! So there’s no reason for you to be feeling so…shy, but you can’t help yourself.

You’re basically admitting that you’re horny and need some help.

At your words, stars light up in the Avatar of Lust’s eyes.

“Ehhhhh~? So you do have those kinds of feelings?!” he speaks, surprise in his tone. You pout your lips at him, glaring a little.

“Of course I do! It’s just…I’ve finally reached the point where I need to do something about it,” you admit. You move to sit against the edge of his mattress, and Asmo’s gaze follows you through the mirror. “At first it was easy to ignore, but…now I seriously need an orgasm, if only for my own sanity.”

You laugh a little, feeling more comfortable as you talk. Asmodeus hums.

Standing, the Avatar of Lust reaches up to undo the clip in his hair—tossing the piece of plastic back onto the vanity—and then moves to join you. You shiver as his fingers crawl against the back of your neck, his grip settling on you he pulls you in—pressing a soft kiss to your heated cheek.

“You’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” he giggles, his other hand moving to rest on the upper part of your thigh. He gives it a little squeeze, and you feel a bit of heat flare between your legs in response. Even if Asmodeus’s powers don’t work on you, that doesn’t mean you don’t feel attraction towards him. You’ve listened to his tales of passion countless times over the last few months, and while at the time they hadn’t affected you, now—if you think of the way he described his hands on a woman’s body, or the things he had made her say and feel—now…they definitely make your heart skip a beat.

“But!” he continues, disappearing from around you. You blink, eyes following him as he bustles across the room. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few gifts from admirers set aside!”

Asmo disappears into his closet, and you hear him digging around in what you can only assume is an overwhelming amount of clothes and personal items. After a minute, he reappears, a gift box in his grasp—topped with a bow and everything.

“Do you…get a lot of gifts you just ignore?” you ask him, lifting your arms to take the box from him when he stops in front of you and holds it out.

“Mmmm, I mean, how can I possibly keep up with them all?? Sometimes they just get put aside to be used at a later date. But now they’re yours!” he says cheerily, rocking on his heels. “And don’t worry!” He swoops down to hug you tight. “I picked the items I think you would like~!”

Asmo cradles your face against his chest, and you can smell the sweet perfume on him. It’s almost intoxicating. However, before you have a chance to think to hug him back, or comment on how good he smells, once again the Avatar of Lust is gone from your side. He returns to his vanity, picking up a tube of crimson lipstick. He raises it to his lips, but doesn’t apply it. Instead, he pauses, his eyes landing on you once more—contemplative.

“Actually,” he twits the lipstick back into place, caps it, and then tosses it towards you. By some miracle, you manage to catch it, and Asmo winks at you. “Take this too. The color will look good on you. Now--!” he finally gets back to his work—immersing himself in applying makeup and dolling himself up for his night out.

“—as much as I would _love_ to personally stay and help you, I do have plans I should probably keep, and I need to finish getting ready. Feel free to text me to let me know if you’re having fun while I’m gone though~”

He ends with another wink—that same, teasing sparkle in his eye—and you can’t help but laugh.

“Sure, we’ll see,” you say, and Asmo giggles as you show yourself to the door.

* * *

In all honestly, you never intended to text Asmo.

You’d gotten back to your room, opened up his package, and unloaded the contents—of which included: a vibrator, a tube of stimulating lube, a sheer set of pink lingerie, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. The items had made you flush red despite your brain trying to convince you they were all fairly normal to receive in a “hope this helps with your horniness” gift basket.

Perhaps it was just the fact that Asmodeus had given it to you that was really the issue. He was only being a good friend, but…realizing that the Avatar of Lust had given you a package of naughty things to use…it managed to light a fire in your gut.

Too needy to be shy, you had immediately grabbed the vibrator and lube. Within minutes, you managed to bring yourself to climax—Asmodeus’s name hanging on your tongue as you rode out the waves of pleasure. It only seemed right to think of him. After all, he was the Avatar of Lust. (Or, at least, that’s what you convince yourself. In reality, you’ve likely got some more intimate feelings for the demon that you still need to work out—but that sounds like a lot of work).

After cumming, you bid your time—lazing in your bed with your D.D.D, and trying to keep yourself occupied. However…it doesn’t take long for your attention to shift over to the opened package on your dresser, the rest of it’s contents still inside and waiting to be used.

 _Well, maybe I can have a little more fun_ , you think to yourself, and hop out of bed. You gingerly remove the pink lingerie from box and inspect it. The material is completely see-through—a two-piece set. Both the tops and bottoms have a cute lettuce trim—the top looking to be off the shoulder and elastic lined, and the bottoms a little too small for comfort—a classic tie-able bikini type.

You bite your lip.

You actually want to try them on.

So—still naked from your previous round of self-love—you hurriedly pull the top over your head. It takes a minute to tie the bottoms correctly and evenly, but once you do, you step in front of your floor length mirror and give yourself a once-over.

Asmo obviously wasn’t lying when he said he had picked them with you in mind…the lingerie fits like a dream, and as embarrassed as you are, you feel very pretty.

Humming to yourself, you begin posing—surveying yourself from different angles. There are still certain areas of yourself you’re not totally confident about, but overall you feel… _good_.

Good enough to begin taking selfies.

You’re not exactly skilled in the art of taking lewd photos, but you’re not unfamiliar with it either. You know a few good angles.

Grabbing your D.D.D, you open the camera app and begin your photoshoot. Within the span of minutes, your camera roll is filled with dozens of new photos—ass pressed out, and tits squished together. You pout your lips as you begin scrolling through your gallery—deleting the photos that don’t piqué your interest. However, in the end you still have a handful of good pictures to choose from, and your heart begins to beat unsteadily in your chest as the idea of sending one to Asmodeus resurfaces.

 _He’d probably like it_ …, you reassure yourself, clicking on your favorite photo. Your body is sideways to the mirror—the curve of your ass accentuated, and your tits round and perky beneath the mesh lingerie.

Squashing any of your self-doubt, you open your chat with Asmo and send the photo.

Not knowing what to say, you don’t say anything. Simply…wait to see if he notices your message.

You’re about to close the app and head to Devilgram (hoping to keep yourself busy and not worry), when all of the sudden dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You immediately freeze, gaze locked onto your screen as Asmo types out his message.

 **Asmodeus** : _Ara~ Looks like you’re having fun without me. How rude of you~_

 **Asmodeus:** _You do look scrumptious in that lingerie, though. I definitely picked well!_

 **Asmodeus** : _If you’re willing, I’d love to see more~_

You roll your eyes at his flirting, your cheeks feeling warm.

 **You** : _Maybe if you say please~_

His response is immediate.

 **Asmodeus:** _Look at you, teasing me when I’m not there to put you in your place~_

Again, you’re tempted to roll your eyes, but instead you dig out your next favorite photo and hit send. This time you’re facing the mirror—thighs shyly pressed together, and an arm wrapped around your torso beneath your bust line—causing your breasts to squish together.

 **You** : _I’ll tease you as much as a I want to._

This time, there’s a beat of silence before he responds.

 **Asmodeus** : _Are you sure you want to do that? I am a man, you know._

Unconsciously, your legs rub together—arousal swirling in your gut.

 **You** : _I’m very sure of what I want, Asmo._

You stare at your screen, waiting for him to respond, but he doesn’t. A check mark letting you know that he’d seen your message pops up beside the bubble, and you feel your heart sink a little. Had you said something wrong?

Frowning, you stare at the chat for a little too long, hoping to see the ellipses appear at the bottom of the chat, but they don’t. Asmodeus is silent.

Sighing, you press to your feet, and head into your bathroom. You survey yourself in the mirror, wondering if perhaps your self-image is off, but shake your head. You’re sure you look cute like this, Asmodeus is probably just busy. He went out tonight to have a good time—he’s likely partying and doesn’t have time to respond.

Nodding, silently holding onto the notion that he’s likely preoccupied, you pull out a face mask and decide to pamper yourself. Really, anything that will take you mind off the Avatar of Lust and help you to not overthink the current situation.

Once the mask is in place, you heft yourself up onto the sink counter, and continue scrolling through your phone. You click into Devilgram, laughing when you swipe past a photo of Satan deadpanning at the camera. Mammon can be seen over his shoulder trying to put the moves on what looks to be an older, richer female demon.

“ _One day Mammon will turn into a sugar baby”_ , the caption reads, and your shoulders shake.

Thanks to the Satan’s comedic post, you actually forget about all your worries for a few minutes.

Once the face mask has started to dry out, you hop off the counter and peel the damp sheet from your face. You toss into the garbage and yawn as you head back into your bedroom. Maybe you should just sleep soon—

“ _Ara~?_ ” a hand suddenly covers your eyes, an arm wrapping around you just beneath your breasts, and you gasp. The warmth of a body appears behind you—soft kisses pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulders.

“I was hoping I’d find you writhing on your bed moaning my name~ Did you decide to wait knowing I’d come?”

“A-Asmo?” you breathe, shivering in his hold as he hugs you tighter against him. You can feel something poignant and hard rub against your ass, and you stiffen—heat scorching the inside of your stomach as you realize how aroused he is at the moment.

And it’s likely all thanks to you.

“I…,” you struggle to respond, your voice shaking as he moves his hand to grip your breast—giving it a soft squeeze.

“ _Mmm_ ~ you look even better in person. The lingerie fits you so well,” he purrs, tongue tracing a wet strip up your neck. Again, you gasp, your ass curving against him as you attempt to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Your neck has always been sensitive, but somehow your current lack of sight has raised the stakes ever higher.

“W-Why are you here? I thought—”

“How could I stay out knowing that you’re at home playing with yourself and looking so delicious?” he responds, not bothering to let you finish. His hand releases your breast—his fingers coasting down the front of your torso. You feel his touch brush against the edge of your lingerie bottoms, and you inhale sharply.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, noticing your reaction. His teeth nip at the lobe of your ear. “Or _aroused_?”

“Both,” you respond honestly, face feeling like a tomato.

Sure, you had hoped to tease Asmo and get a reaction out of him by sending your lewd selfie, but you had never expected him to abandon his night out to come and find you!

“Why are you nervous?” he questions, his hand not sinking lower. Instead, his fingers move to tug at the ties of the bikini. You feel the fabric loosen ever so slightly, but it’s clear he has no intention of undressing you until you answer him.

“I…didn’t expect this,” you tell him, biting your lip when he peppers your neck with more kisses. The soft sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“I can stop if this isn’t what you want,” he says, breath fanning against you. You’re quick to shake your head, and Asmo giggles.

“Okay, so you don’t want me to stop then. That makes me happy~ Because I _really_ don’t want to.”

His fingers tug a little harder at the ties to the lingerie bottoms, and you startle. As much as you want nothing more than for him to touch you—

“Are you sure I’m good enough?”

His movements halt, the world standing still.

You blink as Asmo removes his hand from atop your eyes—the Avatar of Lust gently using hold on your hip to spin you so you’re facing him.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks seriously. Your gaze darts away, too many emotions plaguing you at once. You’re standing in front of him, practically naked—flustered beyond belief thanks to his touches—and now he’s seriously trying to embarrass you more with his question.

“Y/N.” Asmo’s hand moves to cup your cheek, and he coaxes you to look at him. There’s a perplexed look on his face, like he’s confused and frustrated at the same time.

“I just…you’re the Avatar of Lust, and you’re beautiful,” you tell him quietly, one of your hands raising to press against his own as you lean into him. “I’m sure you could have the most attractive people in the world if you wanted to. You’ve already had so many. I guess…I’m just worried I’ll be forgettable.”

You laugh a little, closing your eyes as you flash him a bitter sweet smile. You’d seriously been trying to have confidence in yourself tonight, but—

“ _Mmph!”_ You startle as his lips crash into yours—his hand leaving your hip and finding purchase in your hair instead. As Asmo tugs at your roots, he deepens the kiss—his tongue sneaking into your mouth and stealing your breath away. You’re helpless but to moan against him, the daintiest of the brothers suddenly overwhelming you with his presence.

“You have _no idea—_ ,” he speaks against your lips, taking a step forward and in turn causing you to stumble back. “—how _long_ I’ve wanted to touch you.”

You gasp when your legs hit the edge of your bed—your knees giving out beneath you, and your body landing on the mattress unceremoniously. Immediately Asmo is kneeling over you, his lips once again finding yours.

“You’re so adorable,” he tells you, his kisses straying from your mouth—trailing across your cheek and onto your jaw. “So pretty, so cute—and you really think you’ll end up being forgettable?”

“I--,” you struggle to find your words, your brain feeling like it’s in overload. At your obvious dilemma on how to respond, Asmo pulls back, glancing at your face. You’re redder than he’s ever seen—your eyes wide, and lips parted. A twinkle appears in his gaze as a lightbulb clicks on in his brain, and he grins, one of his hands moving to rest against your waist.

“Do you not like being praised?” he asks, although his tone is teasing. “Does it embarrass you hearing that your skin is so delicate and supple—that I want to touch you all over and feel every inch of it?”

Asmo’s statement has your heart hammering against your ribs—and you instinctively raise your hands to hide your face.

“Asmo~,” you whine, and the demon giggles.

“ _Mmm_ , I think I’ve been neglecting praising you. I guess I’ll have to play catch up tonight~”

You whimper, both extremely shy and aroused at the idea. You’ve always been the type to get flustered at compliments, so the thought of being praised (and by Asmo, of all people) has your heart feeling like it may beat straight out of your chest.

“First things first though—”

You feel something soft and fuzzy secure around one of your wrists, and suddenly your hand is yanked away from your face.

“Hey!” you cry, watching as Asmo forces your arm above your head. He threads the pair of handcuffs through one of the slots on the headboard and then tugs your other hand upward—fastening the free cuff around it tightly.

All of the sudden, you can no longer hide yourself from his view.

“That’s better~,” he sings, leaning down to kiss your flustered face. “It won’t be much fun if I don’t get to see all of your delectable little reactions.”

“You’re seriously trying to kill me,” you whisper against him, and the Avatar of Lust attempts to kiss your worries away.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he admits. He leaves your lips, his head moving to nestle between your breasts. Asmo makes a contented sound as he nuzzles the squishy flesh.

“But—you can always tell me to stop. I’m not a monster who disregards safe words.”

His tongue flattens against your nipple through the thin layer of lingerie, his half-lidded honey colored eyes staring up at you.

“Stoplight colors?”

“S-Sure,” you swallow, still in disbelief that Asmo is seriously about to have his way with you. Humming in acknowledgement of your response, the Avatar of Lust finally indulges himself.

He sits back, his fingers curling under the elastic hem of your top. You watch him as he keeps the band tight along your skin—dragging the hem upwards and subsequently gathering your breasts together. The elastic catches on your hardened nipples, causing your breath to catch in your throat, and Asmodeus licks his lips at the sound.

“Look at that,” he says, his gaze trailed on your tits as the mounds finally pop free—the mesh top bunched around your upper chest. Without wasting time, Asmo captures one of your nipples with his mouth—his hand moving to fondle the other. As he sucks and squeezes, you can’t help but writhe—tiny, embarrassing sounds bubbling up in your throat.

“God, your tits are so _gorgeous_ ,” he moans, being sure to press kisses to every inch of the soft skin. “I just wanna leave marks all over them.”

Asmo takes your nipple into his mouth once more—his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud—and your chest curves into his touch. He smiles at the instinctive movement, his gaze settling on your face as he gives your nipple a small bite—watching as your eye lashes flutter, lips parting in a gasp.

“You’re just so _pretty_ ,” he speaks, one of his hands remaining on your chest while his mouth trails down your torso. He pauses to leave a few teasing kisses to your tummy, but as he does so, he suddenly freezes. He sits back slightly, blinking up at you.

“Where’s the lipstick I gave you?”

Your eyes shift to look at your dresser, and Asmodeus disappears from atop you. He quickly moves to retrieve the tube of lipstick, and your eyes sink to look at the obvious bulge trapped beneath his leather pants.

“Don’t you want to free yourself?” you ask him, motioning to his crotch. Asmo looks down at himself, and as if on cue, you see his member twitch.

“I’ve been denied a lot,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

As your mind momentarily detours to imagine what an orgasm denied, begging Asmodeus would be like, the Avatar of Lust opens the crimson colored lipstick. Within seconds, his lips are coated red, and he smiles down at you sweetly.

“When we’re done here, I want you to be able to see every place of you I’ve touched, and loved,” he says. As you flush once more at his words, Asmo leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You can feel his lipstick smear against your skin—a moan leaving you when he deepens the kiss, slotting his mouth against your own.

“ _Mmm_ , you look so good like that,” he tells you as he pulls back. The lipstick is messy on his face, but the sight only serves to arouse you.

“Touch me more,” you whisper, your hands tugging against the cuffs. You want to feel him too, but you can’t. As you pout, Asmo giggles, slinking down your body. He tracks light kisses down your sternum, his hands squishing your breasts together as he peppers the sensitive mounds with lipstick marks.

“Ahh~ I have a succubus friend who has the cutest markings,” he mumbles, once again reaching over to grab the tube of lipstick. He holds your breast with his free hand—a grin on his face. “You’d look so good with little tattoos all over you—my own personal love bug.”

Asmo presses the lipstick to your tit, drawing a perfectly shaped heart around your nipple. He then mimics the heart on your other mound—looking thoroughly satisfied with his work.

“God, you’re so fucking _cute_ ,” he breathes. You can see the hunger in his eyes—like a switch has finally been flicked in his brain. Up until now, he’s been totally content with moving slowly—teasing you—but now he looks like he’s craving more.

“You know, you can stop with the praise and just fuck me,” you tell him, hoping for a little bit of relief yourself. Not only are his words embarrassing—your heart feeling like it may explode out of your chest—but they’re arousing too. Each praise off his tongue has caused more arousal to pool between your legs, and you can feel that the skimpy lingerie bottoms are already soaked.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Asmo grins right back, and the sparkle in his eye tells you that despite his own desires, he doesn’t intend to stop praising you anytime soon.

“Besides--,” suddenly, he reaches down, his fingers scooting beneath the hem of your bottoms and finding your womanhood. You gasp as his fingers nestle between your wet folds, gathering your arousal.

“—I think that despite your outward reactions, you get off on my praise.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. You can only stare at him, thighs shaking with need as Asmo rubs his fingers against your clit—his eyes carefully watching your reactions.

“Have I mentioned that you taste good?” he says, once again leaning down to press kisses against your torso. His mouth slowly sinks lower—his tongue licking a hot, wet strip from the edge of the lingerie panties to your navel.

“Mmm, I’m sure you taste even better here, though.” He accentuates his words by rolling your clit between his fingers, and you whine, wrists once again tugging against the cuffs.

“Please, _please_ fuck me already, Asmo,” you beg. However, Asmo simply ignores you—moving to reapply lipstick to his lips. He also pauses to draw a heart around your bellybutton, along with an arrow pointing down towards your most intimate area.

“There we go!” he giggles, a cute “Asmo’s <3” scribbled beside the arrow. The possessive nature has you whining even more, and the Avatar of Lust clicks his tongue.

“I promise I won’t leave you hanging~”

His fingers leave your womanhood as he scoots his way down between your legs.

“You’re leaking so much of your precious juices everywhere,” he pouts, noting how wet your bottoms have become. “But I guess I can’t complain, considering it will be so easy to put my cock into your pretty little pussy~”

“ _Asmo_ ,” you try again, a shaky breath leaving you as he spreads your thighs apart. His mouth works at the supple flesh—leaving an array of kisses and bites across the skin.

“You’re shaking,” he teases, glancing up at you with a shit eating grin that honestly makes you want to kick him. You’re not exactly sure how long he’s been praising you, but it’s been too long. While _he_ may be used to being denied, you are not, and you’re really going to lose your shit if he doesn’t put his dick in you soon.

“Please. Please fuck me,” you breathe, desperation painted clear on your face. Asmo’s fingers tug at the strings holding your bottoms in place.

“Do you admit that you’re good enough for me? That you’re beautiful, and should have never been worried?”

“Yes, _yes!_ I’m fucking adorable and I know you want to stick your dick in me, so do it already,” you whine, your hips wiggling in his hold. He giggles.

“God, you’re so fucking precious.”

With that, he finally tugs your bottoms loose. The sheer fabric falls away, and Asmo is quick to get to work. He sits back, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor beside your bed—his pants following soon after. As he pulls the tight leather pants down his legs, you watch his cock spring free—curving up against his stomach.

“Worth the wait?” you ask, tongue darting out to lick your lips as he kicks the fabric from around his ankles.

“Definitely,” he responds, a little breathless as he drags the head of his dick between your folds. It’s obvious that as much as he was holding himself back, he was beginning to near his breaking point as well.

Before you can think of anything more to say, Asmodeus is thrusting himself inside you. Your breath catches at the sudden stretch—but the tension held in your body is quick to melt away—a sense of satisfaction settling in your gut. _This_ is what you’ve been waiting for.

“ _More_.”

And the Avatar of Lust is happy to comply.

He fucks into you with just the perfect amount of roughness—enough to have your toes curling, and the bed rocking—his cock brushing up against your g-spot with every movement. The sensation quickly has you coming undone—your spine curving off the mattress and your mouth hanging open—quiet cries sneaking past your lips.

“God, just _look_ at you,” he speaks, his hands settling on your waist as he grids against you. You look so pretty beneath him—arms trapped above your head, and colorful kisses littering your entire body.

“ _A-Asmo_ ,” you plead, wishing you could hide your face, but he only continues.

“Seriously--,” he fucks into you particularly hard, and a moan is ripped from your throat. “—If I could make you into my personal little succubus, I— _ah_ —would.”

The idea has the already tightly wound coil in your gut winding tighter, and you find Asmo’s eyes. Your gaze is filled with lust—a mindless desire for him to make you cum—and his dick _throbs_.

“Fuck, you feel too good, Y/N,” he hunches over, sweat beading on his brow as his messy hair falls into his face. “You really might make me cum too soon.”

“I— _mmm_ —just t-touch my clit. Please,” you tell him, the bundle of nerves pulsing with a need to be touched. “I’ll cum w-with you.”

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his fingers moving to press between your folds. He rubs at your clit faithfully—a side to side motion that quite literally as your legs shaking—and you quickly feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh _fuck_ , _Asmo_ ,” you cry, your skull pressing into the mattress as your orgasm builds within you. All the while, the Avatar of Lust picks up his pace—little moans of pleasure rolling off his tongue as he fucks you.

As much as he loves to tease, he’s enthralled that he’s finally getting to take you like this. To feel your pussy clench around his dick—to see your tits bounce—to watch you struggle to find words to say. Your body is right on the brink of release, and it’s all thanks to him.

It honestly feels like a dream.

“I—I—”

Your brain feels like jello, your eyes struggling to stay open. The muscles in your lower abdomen begin to tense, and Asmodeus knows what’s coming.

“I’m right behind you, princess,” he says, biting his lip, and you can’t wait a second longer. With a high-pitched cry, you come undone.

Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave—your pussy contracting around Asmo’s dick as you ride out your release. The sensation causes the Avatar of Lust’s pace to falter, a quiet curse leaving him as he loses himself. He fucks into you one last time—full seating himself within your heat—before he cums as well.

The next few moments are a blur—the two of you lost in your combined bliss as exhaustion replaces previous feelings of need. However, the first to speak up is you.

“Let me touch you~,” you whine, puppy eyes trained on Asmodeus as he focuses his gaze on you.

“ _Ara_ ~ Still needy, I see,” he giggles, pulling his length from inside of you. You feel his seed slip from your pussy, and your face gets warm once more. Luckily, Asmo doesn’t bother teasing you. Instead, he moves to grab the key to the cuffs. Within seconds you’re free from your restraints, and immediately you’re reaching up to hug him.

Asmo melts into the embrace, pressing a few gentle kisses to your cheek.

“Was I as good as you dreamed~?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes a little.

“I enjoyed it a lot,” you respond honestly, and Asmo presses onto his forearms, staring at you sweetly. You can’t help smiling at him, your hands raising to cup his cheeks.

“You’re cute.” You drag him into a kiss, and he grins.

“Oh? Is it my turn for praise now?”

“How about--,” you push him from atop you, and Asmo blinks in surprise—watching as you scoot to the edge of the bed and stand. Immediately, more of his cum slips from inside of you and begins dripping down your thighs, and you have to fight off another blush. Asmo snickers.

“ _How about—_ ,” you try again, extending a hand to him. He takes it, allowing you to pull him to his feet. “—we take a shower, and I can tell you all about how pretty you are as we wash each other?”

“Oh, _yes_ , you’re speaking my language!”

Not waiting for your lead, Asmo tugs you along to your bathroom. However, just before you step inside the tiled room, the demon pauses. He grins, tugging you in front of him, and facing you towards the wall. You wonder exactly what he’s doing, when he gently grabs your jaw and directs your attention to the floor length mirror you’re now stood in front of.

From head to toe, you’re littered in kisses—bright red lipstick painting your skin.

“You know,” Asmo speaks, his tone playful as he rests his head on your shoulder. “I know some witches who can probably whip up a potion that will leave you with cute little breeding marks.”

“No--,” you say, embarrassed, and head into the bathroom. Asmo pouts after you.

“Oh c’mon~ What if they only appear when you’re horny, that would be fine, right?”

“… _maybe_.”

Asmo giggles.

“Just wait. I’m very good as persuasion~”

And somehow…you don’t doubt that at all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the people on the discord server today who reassured me that my writing still sounded okay <3
> 
> As always, please leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed! Thank you so much to everyone for your continued support. 
> 
> And if you want to interact more, than I'm always on the discord server being lil shit, or you can find me @dom-joonie on tumblr~


	10. Bath Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...it's been almost 3 months since I updated, huh? ;;;;; whoops
> 
> Admittedly I fell off the OM train for a bit, but I've recently been reading a lot of fics thanks to the revival of ATLA, and that helped bring my writing brain back to life, so here we are! (Oh also I've been rping with a friend and that helped a lot too).
> 
> I actually started this chapter a LONG while ago, and it's supposed to be part of a "pick your path" with another character, but I don't know if I'll ever manage to write the other half, so ;;;; I made it all one chapter
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!! I feel like the smut part is small but I still hope you enjoy *cries*

**Pairing** : Diavolo x Reader

 **Word Count** : 3,970

 **Preview** : During another one of Diavolo's "weekend retreats" at his castle, you manage to wander into a bathing area where you find the Prince...naked.

He invites you to join him.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Lucifer explicitly tells you to not wander around in Diavolo’s castle at night.

But, with a gaggle of boys currently in your room arguing with one another about pointless things, you can’t help it.

The Prince of the Devildom has decided to hold another retreat—basically a weekend long sleep over—for all of his court and exchange students to enjoy. Which means, another weekend of everyone shoved into close quarters, making horrible decisions, and causing trouble.

You, for one, want to avoid being chased by Henry in the dungeons beneath the castle again. So, when Mammon starts plotting to go see what he can steal, and Beel is ready to go and raid the kitchen, you decide that maybe it’d be better to…get away.

Apparently lucky, for once, you manage to sneak out of your room unnoticed. You leave the arguing behind you, and cautiously begin to pad your way around the seemingly endless castle. The halls span long—ceilings high—with every turn branching off into a new path.

After walking and walking and walking (your feet are actually starting to get a little sore), you finally find yourself stood in front of a marbled archway. Through the archway, you can see a split path—one leading left, and one right. In the distance, you hear the quiet splashing of water, and your nose picks up on a sweet, hypnotic scent.

“Mmm~,” you hum, and step forward—tempted to find the source. However, logic makes you pause, and your feet root to the ground once more.

You have no idea what exactly is beyond this archway, or _who_. Should you really be venturing into unknown places alone?

However…

You bite your lip, temptation getting the best of you.

You’re not in the dungeons, and you doubt Diavolo keeps any pet monsters up here, so…what could go wrong?

Forgetting that Lucifer may actually maim you in the near future for your actions, you walk through the doorway. But…now you’re plagued with choosing a path.

You turn your head left, and again, you’re overcome with that sweet, addicting scent, and the quiet sound of water. To the right…you can smell the same scent, mingled with what you can only guess are other herbs and aromatic items.

Well, shit.

Taken in by the aroma to the left of the junction, you find yourself stepping in that direction.

You move slowly, cautiously—being careful of your footsteps and the tapping of your feet against the wooden floor boards.

Finally, when you reach the end of the short hall, there’s another doorway. Your fingers clutching the open frame, you peek your head out, eyes curiously scanning the open room before you.

The sweet smell is stronger than before, a contented shiver rolling down your spine as you breathe it in. The aroma is heavy in the hair, wafted up by the steam rising from the large tub in the middle of the room.

Or—less of a tub, and more of at replication of a traditional Japanese onsen. Beyond the stone lined bath is a miniature bamboo garden, and all around the room you spot wooden lanterns—producing just enough warm light to keep the room’s features illuminated.

“ _Wow_ …,” you breathe, enchanted by the area before you.

However, as you speak, there’s the sound of splashing water. Your eyes immediately flit to the bath—clashing with gold. Your heart nearly stops.

“Y/N?” the Demon Prince himself asks in surprise. There’s a wooden bowl held in his grasp, fresh droplets of water rolling down his handsome face. You follow the waters path down his neck, and across his muscled chest, before it disappears back into the tub.

His tan skin is marked by curved black lines—gold tipped wings and horns sprouting from his back and head. It’s clear from what you can see that Diavolo is completely naked. Luckily, the milky water keeps you from seeing… _too much_.

…man, your cheeks feel hot already.

“What are you doing here?” he speaks up, his tone friendly, but genuine question is reflected in his gaze.

“I…,” you straighten up a bit, stepping out from where you’d been peeping. “The boys were arguing again, so, I kind of…started wandering around, and ended up here?”

Diavolo smiles at the embarrassed blush on your face, your hands knit together in front of you nervously. Honestly, he’s not mad in the slightest. Sure, it was a bit shocking to look up and see you standing there, but he’s glad to see that you feel comfortable enough in his home to walk about freely.

“I’m…so sorry,” you begin to say, foot moving backwards. Your heart is racing in your chest, an uncomfortable and unexplainable knot in your throat as you stare at the Demon Prince. You’ve seen him in his demon form a handful of times—taken in the sight of his flawlessly toned body—but for some reason, today, it’s _really_ doing a number on you.

“I-I’ll leave you to bathe. I didn’t intend to interrupt—”

“No, no! Please—join!” Diavolo smiles heartily, opening his arms to you. “This is quite possibly one of the nicest bathing areas in all of Devildom! I’d be overjoyed to share it with one of our precious human exchange students!”

Lips parted, you stare at him, wondering if he realizes exactly what he’s just invited you to do. Aka – get naked and join him.

“Lord Diavolo, the offer is _very_ kind of you, but—”

“I really insist! Here--!” he cuts in, suddenly pressing to his feet. You squeak in surprise, immediately turning your gaze away from him, and the demon pauses. He glances down at himself, realizing his state of undress, and laughs.

“Sorry, sorry! Let me just—,” he begins wadding through the water to the side of the bath, and fetches a towel. He fastens it tight around himself, and then turns to face you once more. Face still red, you take a peek over at him, your eyes immediately falling to the pronounced V of his hips. The towel is barely large enough to cover… _him_ …from the looks of it, but you appreciate his quick thinking. There’s already a strange, warm feeling settling throughout your torso, and you have a sneaking suspicion that seeing the Demon Prince in all his glory may have made your heart actually explode.

“I suppose I’m not used to having company in spaces like this,” he laughs a little sheepishly. Diavolo wades through the water towards you, his golden eyes still pleasantly locked with your own, and you nearly bite your lip—entirely too tempted to let your gaze roam his sculpted body.

“Actually, I’ve been bathing long enough already—why don’t you use the tub alone?”

“Lord Diavolo, I really appreciate the offer, b-but—,” your voice hitches as he finally climbs out from the steaming waters, now just a few feet shy of you.

“I would like for you to enjoy your time here in my home,” he speaks, voice tender. His feet pad against the wooden floor boards as he approaches you, and each audible step has your heartbeat drumming loudly in your ears.

Honestly, what has gotten into you???

Finally stood within a mere foot of each other, the Demon Prince reaches out and takes your hand. He brings it to his lips, pointedly looking into your eyes—his lips curving into a handsome smile against your skin.

“Please, it would make me very happy.”

“I…okay,” you finally agree, voice soft. Satisfied, the demon pulls back, releasing you. Your hand falls to your side—skin tingling where his lips had touched.

“Good! I’ll bring you a fresh towel once I’ve finished fixing myself up,” he says, his face radiant. You nod in acknowledgement of his words, and Diavolo dips his head, turning and heading towards the wall on the right side of the room. You watch him in confusion, because it’s not like there’s a _door_ in that direction, but apparently this castle is full of many surprises.

Raising his hand, Diavolo raps his knuckles on the wood twice, and a door-sized panel pops open. Your eyes widen and the Demon Prince winks at you, chuckling, before disappearing. The panel clicks closed behind him, and suddenly you’re alone.

Your eyes shift back over to the steaming bath, and you hold a hand to your chest.

You really could use a space to unwind for a little bit…and whatever is in the water _does_ smell tantalizing.

Taking a deep breath, you reach down and tug at the hem of your shirt. Within the span of a minute, you manage to rid yourself of your casual clothing—the outfit neatly folded on a stool off to the side of the tub.

A little self-conscious, you hold your arms to your chest, lip caught between your teeth in anticipation as you sink your toes into the steaming water. Almost immediately, warmth spreads through your limb—climbing up your leg, and making goosebumps rise.

You sigh blissfully, wondering if onsen’s always feel this good.

Without any ounce of hesitation—all of your worries melting away the moment the water hits your skin—you’re quick to sink yourself into the bath. The sweet aromatics of the water flood your senses, and your eyes flutter shut as you recline against the rim of the tub.

The warmth that had spread up your leg is quick to flood into the rest of your body—and you assume it’s because your muscles are relaxing. However…the warmth slowly begins to overwhelm you—licking at the inside of your stomach. You feel your nipples harden, and your pussy clench around nothing, and you quietly moan.

Brows furrowed, you lower a hand between your legs—two fingers curiously pushing at your clit, and the hungry groan that rips from your throat surprises even you.

In the back of your head, you know that you should stop. This is inappropriate—to be touching yourself while inside the walls of Diavolo’s castle—especially considering he’s likely still nearby, but…you seriously can’t stop.

A whimper tugs at your vocal cords, thighs rubbing together as the pads of your fingers grind circles against your clit. Your head rolls forward, tiny, wanton breaths fanning into the steamy air in front of you.

“W-why…?” you whine, pleasure growing in your gut. Your brain is flooded with a _hunger_ —a need for a hand on your skin, a pair of lips on your own, and a cock between your aching walls.

 _This is wrong_ \--! You think to yourself, embarrassed at your own actions, but your body doesn’t reflect the feeling. The sweet aroma of the bath assaults your senses once more, and you choke on a quiet cry, forcing your hand to still. Your fingers shake—resisting the urge to keep going.

Biting your lip, you brace yourself against the edge of the tub, and attempt to press to your feet. Your thighs quiver. You feel weak—each nerve ending on fire as a throbbing desire battles with your inner morals.

“ _Fuck_ …,” you sob weakly, knees shaking.

However, before your body gives out beneath you, and you plunge into warm water, you hear a door open behind you.

“Y/N!” Diavolo calls. The Demon Prince dashes to the edge of the tub, his strong arms reaching out to grab you as your body finally collapses. Normally you’d express your thanks, but when your mouth opens—it’s a moan that comes out. The feeling of his skin against yours is nothing short of a taste of heaven.

“I’m so sorry,” he speaks, meeting your gaze. Regret is painted on his face. “I didn’t realize that the ingredients in the bath would have an effect on humans until Barbatos explained it to me.”

Eyes half lidded; you manage to look past Diavolo to see Barbatos standing there—brows furrowed. 

“My Lord…,” he speaks.

“How do we fix this?” Diavolo asks hurriedly, one of his hands lifting to gently brush the hair out of your eyes. You’re acutely aware of every inch of skin the two of you are currently sharing. His contact provides relief, yet increases your yearning at the same time.

“Well…the effects of the bath should wear off in a few hours, naturally…”

“We can’t keep her like this for so long,” Diavolo shoots back, watching the quickening rise and fall of your chest. You’re flushed all over.

“The other option would be to provide relief,” Barbatos continues, professional as ever. There’s a brief silence, then the Demon Prince speaks again.

“Leave us.”

“Yes, my lord.”

You watch as Barbatos bows and then disappears back through the hidden door. Once the wooden panel has clicked closed, Diavolo carries you to the side of the tub. He seats himself in the warm water, cradling you in his lap—and you feel like a baby in comparison to his large stature.

“Y/N…I’m so very sorry. I hoped you would be able to relax, but it seems I’ve gotten you into an even more stressful situation,” he says, laughing bittersweetly.

“Wh…what’s g-going on?” you ask with effort, desperately trying to fight your body’s urges. Because currently—your brain is screaming at you to ride his dick like you’ve never ridden a man before.

Diavolo sighs. “Apparently the ingredients in the bath are an aphrodisiac to humans. It may explain why you were drawn here in the first place, but…”

He looks you in the eyes once more, and you can see his regret, and hesitation. Despite feeling like you’re drowning in your own arousal, you’re still smart enough to realize what Barbatos had meant by “provide relief” as the cure to your current affliction.

Diavolo feels responsible and wants to help, but he’s also the lord of this realm, and you’re his precious exchange student. He doesn’t want to cross lines.

“Touch me,” you beg, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. His eyes widen.

“There will be no hard feelings, I promise. I’m not mad. I don’t blame you. I just need you to touch me. Please.”

You talk quickly, finding the strength to sit up. You straddle him without hesitation, thumbs brushing against his cheeks as your eyes fall to his lips. The Demon Prince can see the desperation in your gaze— _feel it_ in your every move—and his hands naturally lift to grip your waist.

“Y/N…I…”

His golden eyes drop to your pink lips, and your fingers shake against his skin. You need this now, more than ever.

“ _Please_ ,” you beg, surging forward—your breasts squishing against his chest. Your hips unintentionally roll against his own, and you feel his semi-hard length against your thigh.

“I need you, My Lord,” you breathe the words against him—voice wanton, and tempting--and in the next moment, he’s stealing your breath away. His arms wrap tightly around you, his lips devouring your own as he lifts you into a heated kiss.

“ _Mmm~_ ,” you moan into him, unconsciously grinding into his lap. In your right mind, you’d never be so bold—but at the moment your body is acting on its own accord. Your tongue sneaks into the Demon Prince’s mouth, and he’s quick turn the tables—swallowing your lewd sounds. He holds your torsos flush together, and your chin is angled high in order to kiss him.

You thought that Beel was a giant, but he’s got nothing on Diavolo. You’ve never felt so small before—and the realization is a _huge_ turn on.

Breaking the kiss, you grip his biceps and grind rougher—more desperately—against his growing bulge. The Demon Prince makes a strangled noise, half way between a moan and a curse, and you can’t help but smile with pride. Leaning in, you pepper kisses against the flesh of his chest—tongue licking against the taut planes of skin as you taste him. Above you, Diavolo chuckles, and suddenly you feel his grip around you loosening.

Immediately a whine rips from your throat—the intense desire for contact flaring within your gut as his touch leaves you—but it’s not gone for long.

His hands find your waist, and he picks you up with no effort, turning you so you’re sat with your back against his chest, and with his cock pressing incessantly between your legs.

“ _Diavolo_ ,” you pout, forgetting to add “Lord”, but the demon doesn’t seem to mind.

“Shhh~ I’m supposed to be the one touching you, remember?”

His hands glide from your waist to your breasts—his palms cupping the soft mounds and giving them a firm squeeze. Immediately you’re biting your lip—little mewls of pleasure rising in your chest as he bids your chest some attention. His fingers pinch at your nipples—rolling and tugging at the sensitive buds, and you can’t help but jump at the sensation—a needy cry tumbling past your lips.

“P-Please, more,” you manage to beg, and Diavolo easily concedes. He leans forward, pressing open-mouth kisses against the skin of your neck and shoulder—the occasional lap of tongue, or nipping of teeth making you moan.

You wonder if he’s being gentle due to his sense of guilt or responsibility, but can’t bring yourself to ask him to be rougher with you. Mostly because you’re so fucking horny still that you’re bordering on incoherency.

For what seems like forever (but in reality, is only a few minutes), Diavolo indulges in fondling your breasts whilst painting an array of hickies across your neck and shoulders. It’s not until you begin grinding down against his cock again that he seems to remember what it is you _really_ need.

Sliding one of his hands down the front of your torso, his fingers slip between your folds and locate your clit. Almost instantly you gasp—shuddering against him—and he chuckles quietly. If he were anyone else, you’d likely have turned and smacked him because _how dare he laugh at your horny suffering like this_?—but he’s literally a prince, so you restrain yourself.

“I guess that feels good, hmm?” he breathes against your ear. You nod, desperately gripping at his forearm as his fingers begin to work circles against your clit.

Humming happily, Diavolo lifts his free hand to turn your chin (your tight grip on his arm clearly no type of deterrent to him), and he kisses you once more. You moan into his mouth, your hips instinctively beginning to grind against his fingers.

Finally, you’re starting to near your orgasm. You can feel the pleasure building inside of you—white hot like the sun. However—

“A-Aren’t you going to put your dick in me?” you ask shamelessly, breaking the kiss to do so. Diavolo stares at you seriously.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“ _Mmm~_ That just makes me want it even mo—”

He cuts off your words with a forceful kiss—his tongue pressing into your mouth—and you immediately forget whatever you were going to say.

As Diavolo’s fingers work deftly at your clit, he continues to swallow your desperate moans and whines with his lips. His cock throbs against your pussy—your hips grinding _oh-so-deliciously_ against him, but he makes no move to relieve himself.

Instead, he rubs at you until you’re bucking in his hold—orgasm lurking just beneath the surface. His other hand is on your neck with his fingers splayed up against your jaw—keeping your head angled so he continues stealing kisses from you, even as you come undone beneath him.

Your fingers dig into his arm as your hips twitch—his fingers dutifully continuing to rub at your clit as your orgasm _finally_ washes over you. Almost instantly, you feel the fog of horny desperation begin to dissipate from your mind, and you sigh with relief—your body slackening against the Demon Prince.

“Lord Diavolo,” you breathe against his lips when you finally find your voice. Your clit pulses beneath his fingers with aftershocks, and two half-lidded golden eyes stare back at you when you peel your eyes open.

As the two of you stay seated in the warm water of the tub, you feel an all too familiar heat begins to creep up your toes once more.

“Get me the hell out of this tub unless you want to go for round two.”

That gets the demon chuckling, and he is quick to maneuver you into his arms.

Held princess-style, he lifts you from the water and carries you across the room. Your clothes left behind, he clicks open the hidden panel with his knee and carries you through the doorway. On the other side of the wall is sizable room lined with towels, robes, candles and what you can only guess are herbs and other aromatics for the bath.

Diavolo carries you to the rear of the room where the robes and towels are, and then gingerly sets you atop the table nearby. As soon as his grip leaves you, however—the Prince turning to fetch you a towel from the nearby shelf—you reach out and gingerly grab his wrist.

Blinking, Diavolo allows you pull him back to you. You, sat in front of him in all your glory—fresh love bites scattered across your skin from shoulder to shoulder. Pink has risen shyly onto your cheeks, and when you glance up at him, your bottom lip is caught between your teeth.

“Thank you for being kind enough to take care of me, Lord Diavolo,” you start off saying, and he flashes you a small smile. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Y/N. It would have been wrong of me to just leave you in such a state. I only hope I didn’t hurt you, or do anything you disliked.”

At that, he frowns a little, and you’re quick to shake your head—both of your hands moving to grip his own reassuringly.

“I…no, I wouldn’t worry about that, if I were you,” you say, your face getting hotter by the second, and you hear Diavolo laugh. He leans in to kiss the top of your head, and then steps away—turning his back to you as he does so.

For a brief moment, you wonder why he’s purposefully showing his back to you, when all of the sudden you remember.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind helping you out in return Lord Diavolo,” you say, your boldness surprising even yourself.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re aware he’d gotten hard while touching you that makes you feel a bit braver.

“It’s only fair—and I doubt you would hurt—”

As you speak, Diavolo finally turns to face you, and your eyes immediately fall to his cock. It’s thick, and veined, and _big_ —nearly reaching his navel as it stands curved against his lower abdomen.

“…me…”

Your mouth goes dry, because _god_ he’s a monster, and Diavolo has the audacity to laugh at you.

“The others are likely wondering where you are,” he speaks, acting as if he isn’t standing there with the king of all cocks attached to his already god-like body. “I would recommend drying off and going back to them.”

He throws a towel over your head, and then leans down—his hands gripping the table on either side of you as his hair brushes against your cheek. You can feel his lips against your ear, and you shiver as he speaks—his voice a whisper.

“And for the record, I have no qualms with properly making love to you, Y/N. We simply do not have the time or needed items to… _prepare_ , and I will not have my precious human injured.”

With that, he presses a kiss to your cheek, and retreats whilst shrugging a robe over his shoulders.

Despite not being in the tub, you’re feeling hot all over again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thing with me is trying to keep the characters as in character as possible, so hopefully Diavolo seems true to himself lol
> 
> I could never imagine him just...going for it akl;sjdklasd
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> Please leave a review letting me know what you think <3 seeing people's comments over the last few months was always a nice surprise and good inspiration to keep trying my best to write.


	11. Game Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, no one tell my boss that I spent many hours over the last few days writing smut instead of working lol. (Work is slow and I have little to do, so I mean???)
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> My headcannon for Levi is that he's basically a blushing virgin (not actually) who is flustered by sex, but once he gets over that hurdle, his stamina is crazy.
> 
> So, here we are.

**Pairing** : Leviathan x Reader

 **Word Count** : 5,826

 **Preview** : You and Levi have a game night once a week, in which the two of you get a...little too competitive. 

So, when you decide block Levi's line of sight in a desperate bid to win the game, well. You get what's coming to you.

* * *

It has kind of become tradition—that once a week, you and Levi have a game night.

At first, it’d simply been you helping him with dungeons or runs for supplies in a game you really had no idea how to play. When you’d complained to him about it, saying you wanted to challenge him in some way—to show him that you were actually good at _some_ games—he’d dug out the Devildom’s equivalent to games like Super Smash Bros, and Mario Kart.

He hadn’t really considered the idea of you being able to best him before then. Leviathan was used to you struggling with the controls—being a good distraction for enemies as he snuck past to get whatever rare item was held in that level.

Now, when your cart zooms over the finish line just seconds before him time and time again…he starts to go a little crazy.

Your game nights quickly go from semi-calm dungeon runs, to Leviathan jumping to his feet—cursing at you, the game, and himself as he attempts to get his anger under control before his demon form claws its way to the surface.

Before, you may have been scared to see the otaku so full of frustration, with his horns and tail threatening to sprout from his body, but now? Now, you feel giddy at the sight—full of pride each time you manage to beat him.

You know that you have a bit of a…sadistic, bratty side to you. It’s fun to watch Levi get so frustrated over losing to a “normie human” at a video game that shouldn’t be hard for him to win.

To be fair, you had warned him before playing that you had lots of experience in games like this, but he hadn’t believed you. So, it’s his own fault for getting beat by you, and you’re sure to tell him that—laughing at the way he angrily pouts when hearing so.

It’s been a few weeks since your switch in games, and tonight—like every other night—Leviathan is determined to win. He’s already got the title screen of the game loaded by the time you knock on his door and step into his room.

His eyes immediately flit to you—gaze raking you from head to toe. Beneath the pile of snacks and drinks in your arms, he can see that you’ve once again decided to arrive in your pj’s, and deep within his brain, a part of him feels like screaming.

It’s not like your pajamas are unseemly—an oversized t-shirt and a pair of black shorts is hardly an outfit to feel scandalized over. And yet, Levi finds himself inexplicably attracted to the outfit—relishing each peek of the tight, ass-hugging shorts when your shirt rides up ever so slightly.

Seriously, game nights are both his favorite, and most _frustrating_ part of the week.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” you ask, dumping the snacks in your arms onto the side of his desk. Rather than look at you, he busies himself with picking a snack and drink to start the night off right.

“I wouldn’t sound so cocky, if I were you,” he finally mumbles when he hears you dragging his old gaming chair over (he’d pulled it out for you a while ago, and tends to shove it in the corner until game night rolls around again). “I’ve been practicing.”

“Is…that something you should really be admitting?” you ask with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement as you lean forward to peek at his face. “You basically just acknowledged that I’ve been kicking your ass so bad that you need to _practice_ in your spare time.”

“T-That’s--!” he’s immediately flushing red, wishing oh-so-badly that he could shut you up as you openly laugh at him. Despite your teasing, however, your bright smile is genuinely happy. You enjoy spending this time with him, and the realization makes him feel warm, but in a different way.

“Just…s-shut up, normie…”

He reaches forward and grabs your controller, shoving it into your lap, and you giggle quietly—flashing him another smile that has his heart doing a tiny flip.

“Sooo~,” you speak, relaxing back into your chair as Leviathan grabs his own controller. He clicks out of the title screen and onto the main menu. “Best of five, like usual?”

He nods, and you watch the screen as he picks which courses he wants to race. (You’d told him before that you’d let him choose the tracks, since you’d beat him either way. He hates the advantage, but nonetheless uses it.)

After picking the tracks, the character selection screen pops up. You go to your regular—a black and purple character named “Shroom” (the first time you’d see the off-brand Mario characters, you’d gotten a good laugh), and decide to stick with the basic kart (which secretly drives Levi _insane_ , because _how the hell do you manage to beat him without picking a kart with the best functions?!)_

Levi, unsurprisingly, goes for the princess, “Cherry”. He takes time building his kart—choosing only the superior parts—and finally, once he’s ready, the race begins.

He hunches forward in his chair—his forearms resting against his knees as he dials in on the computer screen. You glance at the demon, lips tugging at the corners fondly at the sight of him.

It’s cute how much he wants to win.

On screen, you hear the countdown begin, and quickly turn your attention away from him. As much as you want to watch his every reaction as he desperately tries to best you, you can’t. Right now, you have to win.

Tightly gripping your controller, you turn your eyes to the computer screen. The race starts.

Slowly, with each passing level, the game begins to descend into chaos. When Levi wins the first level, it’s impossible to keep a smug grin from coming to his face. However, at the sight, you’re quick to reassure him not to get too cocky, and—sure enough—you kick his ass on the following track. He ends up coming in 6th after you hit him with two consecutive red shells, and when the race ends, you can see the veins in his hands beginning to bulge from how hard he’s gripping the controller.

“Want to take a break?” you ask, half serious, half teasing. His response is to start the next level, so you take that as a “no”.

The conclusion of the third race is much closer—only a .8 second difference in your finishing time, but you still come out on top. The near tie has Levi quietly cursing up a storm—remarks about “stupid normies” and their “stupid games” filling the space around him.

You decide to keep your mouth shut this time—figuring it’d be best to not push him for once—and simply smile to yourself as the next race begins. The fourth track is perhaps one of the most difficult, but you manage to traverse it well. At least, until Levi trips you up on a borderless curve with a _banana._

As you go tumbling off the course, Levi jumps happily in his seat—grin breaking out on his face. A little too competitive for your own good, you kick your leg out and hit him on the side of his calf. He yelps, but it’s already too late. His kart rolls over the finish line, and he’s immediately turning to glare at you.

“Hey! No kicking!”

“I mean~,” you hum innocently, finally finishing the race. “We never exactly established a rule that says we’re not allowed to physically interfere with each other.”

“It’s basic gaming courtesy!” he argues, squeaking in surprise when he hears the countdown on screen. You’d started the final race without warning him!

“ _Y/N_!”

“Whoops~,” you feign innocence, tongue poking out of your lips determinedly as your kart revs to life. The two of you fall into silence, eyes locked on the computer as you desperately attempt to best each other.

When you finish the first lap, you’re ahead. The second lap, however, Leviathan finishes two places ahead of you. Frowning unhappily, your leg begins to bounce nervously beneath you.

You hate that Leviathan actually manages to make you so damn competitive. You’re never like this with anyone else, and usually you wouldn’t be feeling so frantic to win, but tonight is different. A burning desire to come out on top takes over your brain, and as the final stretch of the last lap appears on screen, you find yourself pressing to your feet.

Levi, immersed in his own desperation to win, doesn’t realize you’ve moved until your body appears in front of him. It’s a seriously petty move—standing in front of someone to block their view—and almost immediately Levi’s anger gets the best of him.

The frustration that had been building beneath the surface lurches forward, and within a split second, his demon form materializes.

You squeal in surprise as his tail wraps tightly around your waist—dragging you back into his lap. Your controller clatters to the floor, and your kart rolls to a stop just short of the finish line. Levi—who had already been in the lead—finishes in first.

The room goes quiet save the sound of NPC’s overtaking you and finishing the race, and your heartbeat drumming loudly in your ears. Levi is scarily still beneath you—the edge of his controller pressed against the center of your back. You can feel him puff out a heavy breath—the hot air fanning against your neck and shoulder.

“L…Levi?” you question when you manage to find your voice. He doesn’t speak, but instead you feel him shift. His hands move, the sound of his controller being carefully set on the edge of his desk reaching your ears. Then, his tail loosens around your waist, and for a brief second, you think he has finally calmed down. That notion, however, is quickly thrown out the window.

Rather than releasing you, the appendage snakes upward—curling around your neck. Your breath hitches—both nervous, and somewhat aroused—as his tail grips tightly at your throat. The pressure is enough to let you know he’s pissed, but not enough to choke you.

“Do you have _any idea_ ,” he starts quietly, his voice carefully measured as he speaks for the first time in what feels like minutes. “How _hard_ this is for me?”

One of his hands falls against your lap, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and giving it a squeeze. His touch is rough, yet holds a hint of nervousness. He’s always been flustered by physical contact, and has never gone out of his way to touch you.

Yet, now you’re sitting in his lap, with one of his hands one your inner thigh, and the other lifting to hover over your clothed breast. His fingers twitch—as if he’s holding himself back from touching you in all the ways he wants—and you swallow the lump in your throat, your tongue peeking out to wet your dry lips.

“How hard what is?” you question, biting your lower lip as you watch his hand slowly lower onto your chest. His fingers splay across the mound of flesh, giving it an experimental squeeze, and you inhale shakily.

“ _This_ ,” he says, his tone almost a whine. His nose presses into your hair, getting a good whiff of your sweet scent, and for the first time you notice something stiff pressing at your ass.

Levi is getting hard.

The realization has you turning all sorts of shades of red.

“You come to my room, wearing your stupid little shorts, and looking at me with your stupid little smiles that make my heart feel like it may burst right out of my chest.”

The hand on your thigh begins stroking softly over the skin there—inching closer and closer towards your womanhood, and your breath catches.

“I…,” his breathing stutters, his voice becoming softer with embarrassment. “It makes me want you. Makes me…c-crave those cute little blushes, and makes me want to taste your pink lips and…c-claim them as my own.”

His tail marginally loosens around your neck, and you take a deep breath, completely aware of the way your heart is racing within your chest. You’ve always felt something beyond the line of friendship for the Avatar of Envy, but you’d never known he’d been struggling with those same feelings.

“Levi--,” you open your mouth to speak, but he silences you as his tail tightens around your throat—even tighter than before. You gasp, a whine building in your chest as his touches suddenly turn rough again—his nails digging into the sensitive flesh of your breast and thigh.

“But _then_ ,” he continues, his voice darkening with anger, as if he’s just remembered why exactly you’re in his lap in the first place. “You tease me to no end. Rile me up just because you can…”

His tail winds tighter around your neck, his other hand falling to grip your thigh as he grinds you against his crotch, and you struggle to breathe. He’s rock hard—his cock pressed flush against your ass.

“You try to _sabotage_ my win,” there’s a growl in his voice, and suddenly you’re reminded of the time he nearly killed you over TSL.

“L-Levi,” you gasp, voice pitched high as your brain begins to fog over from lack of blood flow “I…I’m sorry. B-But you still won.”

“I did, didn’t I?” You can hear the sudden smile in his voice, like he’s just realized that despite your interference, he still won the game. “Then what do I win?”

Emboldened by the victory, he grinds you back against his cock one more time—letting you know what he wants as his prize.

“You…you can have me,” you tell him, voice quiet. He breathes a shuddering breath against your hair, as if he doesn’t believe what you’ve said.

His fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Are you sure?” his voice is no more than a whisper, and yet you can hear his internal struggle. On one hand, he wants to tear your clothes off your body, bend you over, and stick his dick into your hot, wet pussy without any type of warning. But…on the other hand, he knows he’s not totally himself right now. He’s riled up thanks to the competition, and your efforts to make him lose, and he doesn’t want you agreeing to let him have you just because you feel you have to.

Luckily, you don’t leave him worrying for long. Your hands drop into your lap—fingers slotting atop Levi’s where his hands rest on your inner legs. You give his digits a gentle squeeze, freely rocking your hips back against his hard-on—and a needy moan bubbles in his throat.

“You won, Levi. Claim your prize. I want you to.”

“ _Fuck_.”

His breath hitches, and suddenly his tail has unfurled from around your throat. You’re quick to suck in a mouthful of air, your hands instinctively rooting in the fabric of Levi’s shirt as he scoops you into his arms.

Within seconds, your back is dropped onto the pillows lining the inside of his bathtub-turned-bed, and Leviathan cages you in—his hands resting on either side of your head as he kneels above you. For a moment, he can only stare—still a little disbelieving that you’re allowing him to have his way with you.

Your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, and you lift your palm to cup his cheek.

“You don’t have to hold back, you know…,” you mumble, eyes shying away from him. “As the winner, you can have whatever you want.”

“Please stop trying to kill me,” he retorts with a tiny whine, capturing your lips in a kiss. He’s a little sloppy, and a little forceful, but you don’t mind at all. You’re quick to wrap your arms around him—angling your head so your mouths slot together.

Levi moans against you, his hips unconsciously beginning to grind against your own in a desperate bid for friction. As you nip at his bottom lip, one of your hands moves downward and sneaks between your bodies. You cup Levi’s bulge with your palm, his body instinctively rocking into your hand, and another pained sound leaves his lips.

“F-Fuck, Y/N--,” his voice is breathless, and needy. As he grinds into your hand—your palm sternly pressing his cock against his own hip—you feel something slick and heavy begin to curl up your leg.

Immediately you shiver, your gasp lost against Levi’s tongue as he steals your breath away. Before tonight, you had never considered all the things the Avatar of Envy’s tail could be used for, but apparently, its versatility is not lost on Levi.

Within seconds, the appendage has scaled your legs, and managed to hook beneath the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Levi groans against your lips as you squeak in embarrassment—your pelvises bumping together as you gingerly lift your hips in order to help the demon out.

Soon, you’re naked from the waist down—only covered by your oversized sleeping shirt, which Levi seems desperate to get out of the way.

With a red face, you watch him as he softly slides a hand beneath your shirt—his hot palm resting against your stomach. His pupils—which you note are now narrowed like the eyes of a snake—shake as he slowly hikes his hand higher—his fingers coasting against your skin. Your breathing hitches as he does so, but you find your gaze trained on his face—monitoring his reactions.

You’ve never seen someone so embarrassed, yet distressed by his own arousal. To you, it seems like Levi is constantly torn between running away, and giving into the deep, dark, perverted feelings he’s always kept to himself.

You bite your lip as his fingers finally skim up the valley of your chest. The cotton fabric of your shirt pools above your breasts as the sensitive mounds are finally revealed to Levi’s hungry gaze. His amber eyes start at the top, and drag their way down.

He reaches his hands out as he surveys you with his full attention—his fingers curling around your ribs, and his thumbs just _barely_ brushing up against the underside of your breasts. Licking his lips, he slowly begins trailing his fingers down your sides. Levi takes note of every dip and curve, relishing the feel of you. And when his hands finally find your hips—his eyes falling to space between your legs—he visibly swallows.

His movement is hesitant, but he lowers his hands between your bodies and presses his thumbs at the folds of your pussy. You turn bright red beneath him—because even though Levi is obviously embarrassed as well—you’ve never had any person just spread you open before, and yet Levi does.

He peels you open, and you know you’re already wet. You don’t want to admit it, but him choking you had been a huge turn on, along with pretty much everything else.

Face burning, you lift your arm and partially shield your face. Levi is slow to notice. It seems like he’s in a trance.

Still keeping you spread with one hand, he shifts the other and curves two fingers between your walls—making you gasp.

Finally, his eyes flit up to you—taking in your cute blush, and the quick rise and fall of your chest. The swell of your tits, and your nipples that are hardened from arousal…

And here he is, knelt between your legs with two of his fingers in your pussy.

Which is wet.

 _For him_.

In that moment, any of Levi’s reserves are stripped away.

You can sense the shift in him—see it as he jolts into action. He moves quickly—perhaps a little overly excited about what is happening.

Finally, he seems to have realized that yes, this is all real—and _yes,_ he has consent to fuck you.

“L-Levi--!” you squeal as his tail suddenly curls around your ankle, tugging you closer to him as he hurriedly shoves his pants any underwear down his thighs. His cock springs free—longer than he is thick, but the veins along his shaft are prominent, and his length visibly twitches as Levi settles himself between your legs.

The head of his cock is already wet with his pre-cum, and you get the feeling he’s not far from coming. His breathing is shaky as he presses himself against your entrance—the first few inches of his length sinking in without much protest—and you groan happily.

“ _F-Fuck_ ,” he bites, his voice pitched high as he pulls his hips back and then grinds in again—this time fully sheathing himself within your heat. His entire body visibly shudders—his face red, and eyes clouded with lust.

You suddenly feel somewhat shy beneath him—your thighs spread, and his cock stretching you out so deliciously.

“Kiss me,” you tell him, voice quiet, and Levi blinks. The next moment his lips are on yours. You quietly moan into him—accidentally breaking the kiss when he thrusts inside of you.

“O-Oh my god,” he groans, his hands finding your waist as he sits back and begins fucking into you with vigor. You raise an arm to shyly cover your face once more—your breasts bouncing at each intense thrust of his length inside of you—but Levi won’t have it.

His tail snakes up your body, wrapping around your wrist and tugging it away from your face. You startle, unable to do anything as the appendage searches out your other wrist and successfully drags it above your head. Within seconds, your wrists are pinned away from your face—and you can no longer hide your reactions from the demon above you.

“Make more sounds,” Levi speaks—somewhere between a beg and a command. You open your mouth to retort, and he purposefully fucks into you hard, effectively ripping a cry from your throat. Immediately your face flushes red in embarrassment, but the sight has a smile tugging at the corner of Levi’s lips

His dick throbs inside of you.

“ _Nnn--_!” The Avatar of Envy continues thrusting into you. His motions are quick, and damning. Each thrust as you gasping and whining—pleasure thrumming in your gut. However, as your impending orgasm begins to build, Levi’s hips stutter, and his cock suddenly leaves you. Your gaze flits to him in surprise, watching as his dick visibly jumps. Then, he’s spurting his cum against your lower stomach—painting the soft skin streak after streak.

His breathing is harsh as he begins to come down from his high—his cock starting to soften, and honestly, you’re not mad. Sure, it would have been nice to cum along with him, but more than anything you’re happy that Levi had gotten what he needed. After all, he _had_ won the ga—

You’re knocked out of your thoughts as the tail around your wrists suddenly tugs you upwards. It lifts you higher and higher—until you’re left on your knees, with your hands held high above your head.

“Levi?” you question, gaze falling on the male as his eyes shine.

“Huhuhu~ I’ve always wanted to do this,” he says, sounding far too giddy as he sinks into the tub and settles on his back. You’re about to ask him again what the hell he’s planning when his tail yanks you forward. Within seconds, you’ve been repositioned atop Levi, with your thighs caging either side of his head.

You feel your entire body heat up as you realize his intention—his hands lifting to grip your hips.

“Le- _vi_!” your voice hitches as he drags you down onto his face—his tongue lapping heartily between your soaking folds. He groans at the taste of you, his nails sinking into your skin as he keeps your womanhood thoroughly trapped against his mouth.

You feel him lick against your clit—the demon flicking the head of his tongue against the sensitive bud, and you take a sharp inhale. Your wrists strain against his tail, but you find yourself completely at Levi’s mercy as he begins eating you out like you’re his favorite food.

“ _Mmm~_ ,” he moans happily, enjoying the way your body wriggles in his hold—wanton little cries falling from your lips. Applying a bit of pressure, begins rocking your hips back and forth against his face.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you pant, feeling hot all over. Despite being embarrassed at your current position, the pleasure in your gut is rapidly building thanks to the demon’s bafflingly good oral. He spends most of his time on your clit—lapping, kissing, and sucking the bundle of nerves. But every so often he presses his tongue into your pussy, making you groan, and causing you to buck against him.

Quicker than expected, you find yourself on the brink of an orgasm—your pussy writhing against Levi’s mouth.

“I—I’m gonna--,” you attempt to warn him, and he hears the hidden plea within your breathy words. _Don’t stop_. And he doesn’t—his tongue flicking quickly against your clit. You cry out, pussy throbbing and muscles tightening. Your body momentarily stills, a stifled moan caught in your throat as your orgasm finally arrives—a brief moment of peace before you find yourself tumbling into your pleasure. And Levi draws out your bliss as long as he can—his lips wrapping around clit and sucking. You gasp, floundering in his hold as the pleasure borders on oversensitivity, but Levi refused to release you—not yet.

It’s another minute before he lets up—convinced by your tiny, desperate pleas that you can cum no more—your clit twitching with aftershocks against his tongue.

His hands release your hips, and you suck in a deep breath of air—your chest heaving as you struggle to regain your coherency. Your mind is hazy—body slumping forward tiredly (because god, that was one hell of an orgasm).

You whine quietly when Levi’s tail pulls at your arms—lifting you up so that Levi has just enough room to scoot out from beneath you. You can hear the cushions and blankets of the tub shifting behind you as the demon moves around.

“Mm,” you make a small sound as his tail finally loosens a bit—allowing your arms to drop forward. Your fingers grip against the edge of the tub—thighs shaky as you support your own weight for the first time in minutes. However, when a few seconds pass and his tail is still wrapped around your wrists, you pause.

“Levi?”

His response is to saddle up behind you—his now-hard cock settling against your ass. You freeze in surprise.

You…hadn’t expected him to get so aroused just from eating you out. He’s back at full mast.

“ _Levi_ ,” you whine as his hands find your ass cheeks—squeezing them together around his cock.

“Y-You said I could have— _ah_ —whatever I want,” he reminds you breathlessly.

“But—”

“Just…o-one more time,” he begs, and you gasp when he moves his hips—his cock finding its way between your wet folds. When the head of his length brushes up against your clit, your entire body shakes. You’re still extremely sensitive from your orgasm, and your body feels like a bag of bones, but nonetheless you find yourself nodding your head.

He did win, and you want to fulfill his desires best you can.

At your submission, Levi is quick to act. He shoves his cock inside of you without warning, and you gasp—your fingers tightening around the edge of the tub. The demon moans—hands firm on your hips as he begins thrusting into you. In the same beat, he drags your body back onto his cock.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the space between your bodies—your arousal slicking Levi’s cock as he fucks you—and he groans.

His pace is less frantic than before. His motions are smoother—his hips rolling against your ass. The motions manage to draw a moan from your lips, and you start to become lost in the feeling of his cock stretching your walls open.

In fact, you’re so focused on how _good_ it feels to be full again—the head of his length finding that sweet spot within you and pressing against it with each thrust—that you don’t notice when his tail unfurls from around your wrists.

You _do_ realize it, however, when the tip of his tail presses at your lips. Your previously closed eyes shoot open—a gasp of surprise muffled by the scaled appendage as it snakes its way into your mouth.

“ _Mmph--_!” your whine of protest is lost. His tail fills your mouth—moving out of sync with his thrusts—and your eyes roll back when he ventures too deep and causes you to gag. The gag, however, also causes your pussy to clamp around his dick, and Levi moans.

“ _Oh my god_.”

His tail begins to fuck into your mouth with a bit more fervor—pressing into your throat and causing you to gag every few seconds. Each time, you hear Levi’s breathing stutter, and you know he’s drawing closer and closer to his orgasm.

Despite how fucked out you feel already—spit sloppy against your chin, with your body slumping tiredly against the edge of the tub—you begin to feel your arousal building as well. As tired as you are, your body is somehow ramping up to another orgasm.

Honestly, you wouldn’t mind not cumming, though, you think to yourself as tears threaten to spill over your bottom lashes. You can sense that your clit is still overly sensitive, and you feel like you may actually fade out of existence if another orgasm rips through you.

So, you quietly decide that if you don’t cum, it will be fine. Levi, however, has different ideas.

The base of his tail curves—resting against your clit as the appendage continues to fuck into your mouth. You immediately cry out—body writhing—because with each thrust of his tail between your lips, he’s now also rubbing against your clit.

“Nnn!” your arms give out beneath you, broken sobs wracking your chest. Levi grunts, and you feel him shift forward—his chest pressing flush against your back as he readjusts his position.

“So good. You f-feel _so_ good,” he pants. His breath is warm against your neck, and his arms wrap around your chest. He holds you tightly against him—his arm circled just beneath your breasts—and you gasp as he begins fucking into you once more.

His tail, which had also stilled, resumes its motions. The brief moment of rest is over, and you’re once again left crying around the scaled appendage. You reach your breaking point within a few seconds—tears finally streaking down your cheeks as the demon forces you to choke around his tail once more. Your pussy clenches around Levi’s dick—and with a few more rubs of his tail against your clit, you’re cumming.

Any remaining strength in your body disappears, your body going limp in Levi’s hold as you shudder—your orgasm tearing through you.

Knowing that you need to breathe, Levi removes his tail from your mouth, but doesn’t let you go. He keeps you trapped against him, his cock working inside of you with a few desperate thrusts, and then, _finally_ , he cums as well.

The Avatar of Envy empties inside of you with a spent, but satisfied groan—listening to your quick, shuddering breaths as you attempt to recover from a lack of oxygen.

“Thank you. _Mmm_ , t-thank you _so much_. That…I…that… _mmm,_ ” he’s left mumbling against the skin of your neck, his hips still pressed to your ass. You feel him going soft inside of you—his cum beginning to leak down your thighs—but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

The only thing keeping you from passing out right then and there is the purple haired demon, and his quiet, thankful praises.

“I’m glad you got what you wanted,” you eventually whisper, your hand lifting to pet against his head. He nods against your neck, shuddering when he finally slips from inside of you.

With a grunt of effort, he sits back onto his knees, and then grabs your waist. Soon, you’re both laying tiredly beside one another in the basin of the tub, and you glance over at the Avatar of Envy. At some point, he had removed his hot clothing, so now he lays completely bare beside you—his pale skin flushed, and sweaty.

You can’t help but smile at the sight of him, and when he notices you’re staring, he blushes.

“What?” he mumbles, rolling onto his side to face you. You giggle tiredly, your palm reaching out to cup his cheek, and your tender gaze makes him melt.

“Nothing. I’m just…happy. You’re cute.”

“…you can’t just say that,” he whines, but nonetheless presses into your touch. You laugh again, but choose not to comment. You don’t want to suddenly have him feeling all self-conscious after all of… _that._

“We should do that more often,” you comment, hoping to reassure him that you enjoyed yourself. You roll onto your side, spent, and snuggle into the pillow beneath your head. You know you’re filthy and in need of a shower, but right now, you seriously can’t move.

After a few seconds, an arm hesitantly wraps around your waist, and you feel Levi’s chest press against your back.

“D…do you really want to?”

His voice is quiet, but full of hope. You nod, snuggling back against him.

“Yeah. It would certainly make game night more exciting for the both of us.”

At that, he finally giggles. Levi’s arms wrap tightly around you, giving you a squeeze, and he makes a sound of contentment.

Within a minute, you’re asleep in his arms, and the Avatar of Envy is quick to follow you into dreamland, but not before pressing a kiss to your hair.

“You’re cuter,” he mumbles, barely audible, and then he’s gone as well.

* * *

The week following your ecstasy filled game night is…amusing. Well, at least for you.

Anytime Levi sees you, he turns bright red, and—more times than not—pops a boner.

He’s left running around, trying to preserve his modesty, while his brothers wonder if he’s okay. You tell them that he’s just… _disgruntled_ …when thinking about your last game night, and—knowing how competitive Leviathan can be—they buy it.

Each time it happens, however, you’re left giggling to yourself—wondering exactly how a boy who fucked you silly can be so damn embarrassed by his own dirty thoughts.

It’s honestly adorable.

And you can’t wait for next time.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope I managed to stay pretty true to Levi's character >3<
> 
> And thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has been leaving comments and kudos on Diavolo's chapter! It was so nice to see all the positive feedback, even though I basically disappeared for three months.
> 
> I'm hoping that my writing brain will stick around a while longer so I can write a bit more, but we'll see.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought ^^ and if you want to talk more, my tumblr is @joonie-beanie !!!
> 
> (I changed both my AO3 and tumblr usernames today)


	12. The Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> This chapter takes place after "Feline Charms" so if you haven't read it, or need to refresh your memory, please go and read that first!

**Pairing** : Satan x Reader

 **Word Count** : 4,982

 **Preview** : Despite the fact that you're supposed to have the House of Lamentation all to yourself, Satan shows up in your room with a familiar charm.

He wants a chase, and you're willing to give it to him.

* * *

Satan walks into your room one quiet day—a sparkle in his eyes.

You pause from where you’re sitting on your bed, surprised to see him. Last you’d heard, Diavolo had invited the brothers to the castle for dinner. You hadn’t been included in the invitation (something about discussing sensitive Devildom politics over the meal), but it hadn’t bothered you.

For once, you’d have the entire house to yourself, and that thought was exciting. But…

Here Satan is, standing in your doorway, and looking suspiciously happy.

“Did you…not go with your brothers?” you ask, pushing yourself into a seated position, with your legs crossed under you. You stare at him innocently, head cocked to the side.

“I told them I needed to catch up on homework first,” he says, waving his hand uncaringly. “The first hour or so is just mingling anyway. Dinner doesn’t start until late.”

“Ah,” you respond, but you’re still confused. It’s obvious to you that Satan doesn’t have any real homework to do, considering he’s standing in your doorway all mischievous-like. There’s got to be a reason why he’d stayed behind, and come to visit you in particular…

Sighing, you press to your feet and pose with a hand on your hip—eyebrow raising as you stare at him.

“What can I do for you, Satan?”

At that, he grins. Digging into the pocket of his jeans, Satan carefully tugs out what looks to be a small keychain. He only holds it only by the silken ribbon, and your eyes narrow in on the all too familiar golden charm dangling at the end.

Immediately, your body goes stiff—explicit memories flashing through your head.

Satan chuckles as he notices your obvious shift in demeanor.

This shouldn’t be a complete surprise to you. After all, you and Satan had spoken on the possibility of once again using the charm to make things a bit more…interesting.

It wasn’t like your normal sex wasn’t fun, or fulfilling, but…you and Satan both had admittedly gotten immense pleasure out of your first (albeit accidental) use of the charm, so why not try once again?

“I managed to adjust the spell so you won’t turn fully into a cat, like last time,” Satan speaks, his foot inching forward. His pace is slow as he approaches you, and you feel your breathing pick up—your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

You know that this time, you’re both looking for that bit of resistance you’d shown before—when Satan had been forced to wrestle you into the shower. Except, today, you won’t be running due to a fear of water—you’ll be running to feel the thrill of the chase.

Satan had expressed to you some while ago that he’d admittedly always loved being able to let go and indulge in his Wrath-born tenancies from time to time. And…part of those tendencies typically involved games of cat and mouse.

For as composed as Satan appears to be, he gets twisted pleasure out of stalking his prey—chasing them, letting them work themselves into a frenzy, until finally Satan puts them out of their misery.

…of course, Satan has no intention of killing you.

No, for you, a much more…pleasurable ending awaits.

“Of course, we don’t have to do this right now, if you’re not up for it.”

He lifts his free hand and cups your cheek, dragging you into a soft kiss. That mischievous glint in his eye is gone, replaced with a look of understanding and affection.

You and Satan have only grown closer over the last few weeks, and there’s no way he’ll jeopardize your relationship by forcing you into a scenario when you’re not on board.

A quiet moan builds in your throat, and you raise your hands—cradling his face between your palms. You steal another kiss from him, and your heart begins to race.

You love him so much that sometimes you think you may drown in your affections for him. How can one man make you want to melt, but manage to get you so sexually aroused in the same beat?

Lowering one of your hands from his cheek, you trail your fingers down his chest, and onto his arm. Within moments, your fingers skim against his own. You feel the soft silken fabric holding the charm, and without second thought, reach down to touch the spell-laden metal.

Immediately, your body tingles—and you can sense the magic changing your form. The sensation stops only after a few seconds, and true to his word, this time around you have not turned into a house cat. Instead, you remain human, but with feline characteristics—your ears twitching on your skull, and your tail waving behind you—showing the excitement you’ve been attempting to hide.

“Do I at least get a head start?” you whisper against his lips—smile overtaking you. The Avatar of Wrath chuckles, pressing one final kiss against your mouth.

“10 seconds,” he says.

In a flash, you’ve disappeared—your shoulders brushing together as you dart past him and exit your bedroom. He can hear your footsteps echoing down the hall as you run, and Satan grins to himself. It’s clear you don’t intend to make this easy for him.

As adrenaline begins to flood his veins, his power begins to seep. Horns appear on Satan’s head—his clothes transforming into his demonic outfit, and a green and black tail snakes around his leg.

“3,” he mumbles to himself, turning to face the open door to your room. He rolls his neck side to side—loosening his muscles.

“2.”

Satan takes a deep breath, his ears straining to hear you. You’ve traveled quite far in just a few seconds…perhaps the spell had granted you a tiny boost in speed, as well.

“1.”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Satan rushes after you.

You’ve already made it down the staircase and into the dining room by the time Satan is done counting.

While a part of you had admittedly debated slowing your pace so that Satan could find you more easily, that idea had quickly been chucked aside. Satan wants a chase, and, well…to be quite honest, the Avatar of Wrath is a bit scary. At least when he’s like this. (Although you know he would never actually hurt you.)

A wave of power extends throughout the house, and you feel your hair stand on end. Briefly pausing, your cat ears—with heightened senses—swerve around on your head. Somewhere behind you, a stair creaks.

You suck in a sharp breath, gaze quickly darting over your shoulder. How is he already this close??

Hurrying forward, you do your best to tread lightly as you round into the kitchen. You stay low behind the counter tops, a tiny smile tugging at your lips when you suddenly feel foolish for the way your heart is hammering against your ribs. You’re excited, and anxious, and aroused, and—

“Neko-chan~”

The voice is drawn-out—playful—but it still makes your hackles rise.

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of the demon lurking behind you. You don’t even dare look—simply leap forward and out of Satan’s reach. He grins mirthfully as you turn your head to stare at him--shocked. It’s seriously unfair that he can move so silently.

“I found you,” he says, taking a step forward. In response, you take a step back. The doorway to the hall is still a few feet behind you, and Satan is blocking the entrance back into the dining room. Your best bet would be to stun him, and then run further into the house and hide.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see an apple sitting on the counter.

You swipe at it without warning, effectively sending it flying towards Satan’s head. The demon, luckily, is thrown off by the action.

He lifts an arm to save his face from being struck by the fruit, and by the time the apple has bounced off his arm and clattered to the floor, Satan’s eyes only manage to catch the sight of your tail disappearing from the doorframe.

A grin tugs at his lips, his eyes flashing dangerously.

You’re cute when you’re desperate. Too bad your efforts are in vain.

You only make it half way up the hall before a hand wraps around your tail. With a shriek, you tumble off your feet—landing ungracefully on your ass. There’s an amused snort behind you.

“And _that’s_ why I keep my tail close to me.”

You scramble to your hands and knees—knowing that Satan is behind you—but he doesn’t allow you to get away again.

“It’s adorable when the prey doesn’t realize it’s time to give up.”

Satan’s warmth and weight are suddenly on your back. You feel his prominent hard-on against your ass, and pointedly rut back against it—hoping to loosen his hold. However, the action in turn causes him to grip you tighter—his sharp nails digging into one of your breasts through your shirt.

You whimper, but the sound quickly escalates into a pained gasp as Satan’s other hand roots in your hair. He tugs your head back—his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck as punishment for that last, pathetic escape attempt.

“ _Satan_ ,” you breathe hotly, your tone pleading. Your ass wiggles against his crotch. Despite the small amount of distress you feel towards your current situation, it is vastly outweighed by the arousal pooling your gut. The Avatar of Wrath catching you and pinning you down like this is a huge turn-on.

“Wasn’t much of a chase, in the end,” he mumbles against your ear, and you blink in shock as the world spins. He easily flips you onto your back, and suddenly you’re staring at his devilishly handsome face—his lips pulled into a wide smile, and his blond hair disheveled.

“You should have just told me if you wanted my cock that badly, Y/N.”

You flush red, hand lifting to press against his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“You prick—I ran with all I had! Maybe if you wanted more of a chase, you should have given me a bigger head s—”

Your words are cut off as his palm presses against your neck—his fingers squeezing tightly around your throat. You’re very much reminded of the first time he’d fucked you--the same ears and tail adorning your body.

“I would watch your mouth, _kitty_.” You start to go light-headed, and Satan feels you become more pliable beneath him. He drags his knee between your thighs--grinding up against your pelvis, and you whine. “Is that any way for a pet to talk to their master?”

“I-I’m not--,” you attempt to deny his words, but you’re aware that this is a battle you won’t win. You’d said once before that you were the “Avatar of Wrath’s personal little pet”, and he’s taking that very seriously. Especially now that you’re pinned beneath him--cute, fuzzy ears flattened against your hair. 

Satan leans in so your faces are mere centimeters apart, and his eyes flick to look at your lips.

“Want to try that again?”

Your body heats up with embarrassment. You will yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m your pet, Satan.”

He smiles at that, and you feel his grip on your neck loosen as he leans down to kiss you. You moan quietly into the kiss—your arms lifting to wrap around him—but the soft moment is over as soon as it begins. The Avatar of Wrath nips his canines against your bottom lip, drawing a bit of blood, and his fingers tighten against your throat once more.

“And as my _pet_ , I can do whatever I please, yes?”

His knee is still rubbing up against your pussy, and even though the friction is lessened by your clothing, you’re so riled up at the moment that you swear if he keeps going, you’ll cum soon.

You nod weakly.

“ _Say it_.”

“You can use me however you want.”

Your voice is frantic, and breathless. Satan can see the way your face has started to color from lack of blood flow, so he removes his hand from your neck. Instead, he places a finger at the collar of your shirt—his green nail extending into a point on command. The sharp nail catches the fabric of your shirt and tears it clean up the middle.

Because you’d been expecting to have the house to yourself tonight, you aren’t wearing a bra.

As your tits spill into the open air, Satan’s dick throbs. Immediately, his hand descends upon the soft mounds, giving them a rough squeeze. You whimper--your eyes straying to look at the crotch of Satan’s pants, and the pitched tent is quite obvious.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. Satan notices, his eyes narrowing. He removes his hand from your chest, and instead replaces it with his mouth. As he sucks your tit between his lips—his teeth gently nipping at your hardened nipple—his free hand sneaks beneath the hem of your pants.

His fingers slide between your wet folds, two digits curling into your pussy with little resistance. You writhe beneath him, your hips grinding down against his hand, and he sinks his teeth into your breast as a warning. You’re quick to cease your movements.

“Good girl.”

Satan laps his tongue against your tit—soothing over the indentation of his teeth. Acknowledgement of your good behavior.

You whine, unable to help the miniscule twitching of your body as Satan begins finger fucking you. His pace is frustratingly slow—serving only to rile you up—but you know that if you beg for more, you’ll be punished. Good pets learn to wait, and so shall you.

“ _Mmm--!_ ” you mewl—your chest arching into Satan’s mouth. He’s taken to biting and sucking against your breasts—leaving you with a pretty pattern of soon-to-be hickies.

“You like it when you have marks, don’t you?” he speaks, voice deep. His emerald eyes flit up to you, and a grin pulls at his lips when he fucks his fingers into you particularly hard—making you gasp.

“That way, whenever you see them, you’ll be reminded of this—,” Satan drags his mouth upward to rest against your throat. His words are hot against your skin as he continues, and you shiver.

“—me, fucking you in the middle of the hallway after a pathetic game of cat and mouse. You’re quite literally the cat out of the two of us, and yet you were caught…”

“Not exactly a fair game when you’re running from a demon,” you shoot back. Satan breathes a laugh, and a moment later, you feel his canines against the column of your throat. He bites down—a cry falling from your lips—and Satan enjoys the way your pussy tightly grips his fingers. Despite the pain laced in your voice, he can feel your walls getting wetter.

“You’re quite mouthy for a pet,” he comments, sitting back a little. There’s a clear impression of his teeth against your neck. Your chest rises and falls quickly—eyes blown wide as you stare at him. Looks like your bratty remarks have finally given way to needy submission.

“How about…,” Satan pulls his fingers from inside of you, watching the way your bottom lip quivers in disappointment. “…you meow for me?”

His two digits—slick with your own arousal—press against your clit and begin rubbing slow, gentle circles. Your skull angles back into the carpet, lips parting in a silent moan, and after a moment your wanton gaze resettles on the demon.

You hesitate, your cheeks getting redder, and Satan grins. He rubs against your clit a bit harder, leaning down to press open mouth kisses to your sternum.

“If you be a good girl and meow, I’ll quit teasing and give you what you want. How’s that sound?”

He mumbles the words against your skin, smiling when he feels your thighs tighten around his hand. It takes a few seconds for you to work up to it, but eventually Satan hears you sigh—giving into your fate.

“ _N-nyaaa~,”_ you manage quietly, pitching your voice high, and attempting to come off cute. Your heart is racing against your ribs, embarrassment and arousal clashing as your body continues to heat up.

Satan’s fingers pause against your clit—the blond-haired demon leaning back, and giving you a curious look. It seems like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Despite his inner amusement at making you meow; his dick is _throbbing_.

He wants to fuck you into the floor.

“You’re driving me _crazy_ ,” he remarks, resting back on his knees as his hands fumble to undo his belt. You watch him with wide eyes, surprised at the desperation that is oozing off of him. A part of you wants to tease him for getting so turned-on from making you _meow_ of all things, but you don’t want to jeopardize your chance at finally having his cock inside of you.

And you _need_ this.

A gasp falls from your mouth as Satan grabs you—his fingers tugging at the waistband of your pants. Since you’re fairly desperate yourself, you lift your rear off the floor, making it easier for him to shuck the clothing off of you.

Now, with your lower half revealed to him, Satan wastes no time in settling between your legs. His pants are already shoved down his thighs—cock weeping and hard.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commands a little breathily as his hands find your hips—guiding you against him. The head of his length rubs between your wet folds, flicking against your clit, before finally dragging down to your sopping hole.

You groan pleasantly as he seats himself between your walls—your legs curling around him as his cock stretches you open--filling you so deliciously. Despite the wrath in his nature telling him to be mean, a hint of fondness tugs at his heart--happy to see your satisfaction.

Leaning down, Satan cups your face. He kisses you hotly—his tongue dragging against your own as he swallows each and every pleasurable sound that threatens to escape you. 

With his cock sheathed within your heat, he kisses you until your breath is completely stolen away.Then, he leans back--his eyes roaming you from head to toe. Hickies litter your chest, your lips are wet and swollen, and the bite mark on your neck is sure to be there for days. He grins with satisfaction at his work.

“What a good pet,” he comments. His hands find your hips once more, and the soft intimacy of the moment has ended. You’re once again his prey.

“ _Oh--!_ ” you choke in surprise as Satan suddenly thrusts himself into you—his pace fast and rough right from the get-go. Your fingers tear into the carpet beneath you—desperate for something to hold onto. If it weren’t for the remnants of your torn shirt protecting your back, you’re sure you’d have carpet burn in minutes.

“ _Ah_ ,” Satan bites out, his heart thundering in his chest as he continues fucking into you. With your legs tightly wrapped around him, it makes it so easy for him to grind your pussy onto his dick—his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your hips as he forces you to meet him in the middle.

Uncalled upon, little whines and pleas begin to drip off your tongue. The chase combined with all of Satan’s teasing has gotten you so worked up that you can already feel arousal pooling heavily in your gut. Each drag of the demon’s cock between your walls inches you closer to your release, and at this rate, you won’t last very long.

“S-Satan, I--,” you open your mouth to warn him, but that’s all you can manage. You can barely form a coherent thought, your eyes glazed over as you stare at him. And Satan loves seeing you like this—falling apart beneath him. All it would take is one final push, and he’s sure that you’d unravel.

“Oh? Are you close already?” he teases, despite full well knowing he’s nearing his breaking point as well. Sweat has started to bead on his brow—the ends of his messy blond hair sticking against his forehead. As much as he could poke fun at you for being so close already, he doesn’t have the right. At this rate, he’ll be pumping you full of his seed within the next few minutes.

You bite your lip at his question and manage to nod your head. Your pussy is throbbing around his length—gripping him tighter with each passing second. You’re drowning in your own arousal.

Whining a little, you lift your arms towards the demon—craving to feel him. He’s already fucked any remaining disobedience out of you, and now all you want is to keep him close as he drills you into the floor.

Luckily, Satan is feeling nice enough to give in. He wraps his arms behind you, hugging you tightly against him as he continues fucking his hips into yours. Wet slapping sounds echo down the hallway, and you moan--your fingers digging into his shoulder blades as you wrap yourself around him.

Satan’s breathing is heavy against your ear, quiet pants and curses puffing against your skin as the two of you rocket towards your climaxes. However—

_Brrrring Brrrring~_

Satan’s rhythm stutters as he feels his DDD begin vibrating against his lower thigh. He growls.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your head thumps back against the floor in disappointment as Satan untangles himself from around you and wrestles his phone out of his pocket. The screen reads **Mammon** , and Satan momentarily debates ignoring the call. However, knowing that he’s supposed to be at an important meeting with his brothers and Diavolo currently, he can’t justify doing so.

“What?” he bites in annoyance, connecting the line. Despite also being peeved at the interruption, you find yourself smiling—Mammon’s offended voice reaching your ears as he complains about the rude greeting.

As Satan seethes, you become aware of the fact that his cock is still inside of you. Even though he had picked up the call, he has made a point of keeping himself seated between your warm walls, and the realization has you feeling a little… _devious_.

“ _Lucifer is wonderin’ where the hell ya are_ ,” Mammon states after airing his complaints at Satan’s cold greeting. The Avatar of Wrath sighs.

“I’ll be there soon, I’m nearly fin- _ished_ \--,” his voice wavers, pitching high in response to your pussy clenching around him.

“ _You okay, Satan?_ ” Mammon asks curiously as Satan’s narrowed emerald eyes shift down to you. There’s a look of disbelief on his face—had you really just done something so ballsy?—but the anger in his eyes quickly melts into something much more devious.

He leans back a little more—his free hand moving between your legs. Before you can beg him not to, the Avatar of Wrath is quickly rubbing two of his fingers against your aching clit. His motions are swift and damning—a side to side motion that has your eyes rolling back, and your lips parting. A moan threatens to tear out of you, and you hurry to lift your hands and cover your mouth.

A grin tugs at Satan’s lips even as your pussy tightens around his cock once more.

“I’m fine,” he responds after a brief pause, his voice even and put together. It’s a stark contrast to you, who is quite literally writhing beneath him. You cry into your hands—your thighs pressing tightly against Satan’s hips as you attempt to close your legs, but it’s no use.

“… _okay then_ ,” Mammon relinquishes, still sounding a little suspicious. “ _Dinner starts in 30 minutes. Get here by then, alright?”_

“I’m sure I’ll finish in time,” Satan replies, now full-out grinning as he watches you squirm. He can feel your pussy pulsating around his length. If he keeps going, there’s no doubt you’ll cum.

“ _Ya better, or Lucifer will have your ass. Get here soon.”_

With that, Mammon ends the call, and Satan doesn’t hesitate in chucking his phone across the floor. It skids to a stop on the carpet a few feet away just as the demon reaches up and tears your hands away from your mouth.

“You bas--,” you start breathlessly, but Satan cuts you off. His mouth crashes against yours—his arms once more wrapping tightly around your torso as he picks up where you’d left off. And all you can do is moan around his tongue—a thick layer of need blotting out your anger and embarrassment.

Once again, the two of you are thrown into the depths of your pleasure. The world disappears from around you. All you know is Satan, and the way he’s making you feel.

“ _Please_ ,” you beg, fingernails pressing crescents into the skin of his shoulders. You’re so, _so_ close. You could snap at any second.

Satan notes the way your walls grip him—squeezing tighter with every thrust of his cock, and he bites out a curse. He can feel your breasts pressing against his chest—hear each of your breathless pleas and whines. You’re quite literally falling apart in his fingers, and he has never experienced anything more beautiful.

“Cum.”

Permission.

With a strained cry, you hug yourself to him as tight as you can, and cum. Your body convulses beneath him, your pussy milking around his cock, and you feel his muscles tense. He pants harshly—a near whine caught in his throat—and his rhythm finally falters.

Seating himself inside of you, Satan paints your walls with his seed. His chest heaves as he slumps against you—holding you near as your pussy forces every last drop of cum from his length. Taking a deep breath, you reach a hand up to pet through his blond hair.

“Good?” you question tiredly, turning your head to press a kiss to his ear. Satan hums in affirmation, and you shiver as he drags his hips backwards—his length disappearing from inside of you.

“Very,” he assures you, moving to kiss you.

You smile, happy to hear him say so, and then laugh a little. He cocks an eyebrow, leaning back onto his knees so he can fully look at you.

“What?”

“I think you just have a cat fetish,” you tell him, your ears twitching atop your head. “I mean…we could have sex like this _without_ using the charm, you know?”

Satan turns a little red at that, sheepishly tugging a few strands of damp hair from his forehead.

“I just…think you look really cute like this, okay?”

It’s clear that now that the Avatar of Wrath has gotten his fill, he’s not feeling so mean anymore.

“Then I’ll be your kitty whenever you want,” you tell him, pressing your palms to the floor as you sit yourself up. Satan immediately reaches forward and cups your cheeks—a fond look in his eyes as he guides you into another kiss.

“That’s a dangerous offer,” he tells you, smiling against your lips. You laugh again, and Satan is sure to pepper you with a few more soft kisses before he grabs your hand and helps you to your feet. The two of you put yourselves back together best you can—Satan reassuring you that he’ll buy you a new shirt when he sees you motion to the now destroyed garment on your top half.

“Have fun at dinner,” you tell him as he bends down to retrieve his discarded phone. The demon rolls his eyes, his horns and tail disappearing into thin air.

“Of course.”

Pausing to hug you and kiss you one last time, Satan then makes his way up the hall and disappears from sight. Once he’s gone, you stretch your arms above your head and turn back towards your room. You could really use a shower.

* * *

Later than night—just past 1AM—you’re pulled from your sleep by a dip in your bed. An arm wraps around your waist—a nose nuzzling against your neck—and you murmur quietly.

“Satan?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” he shoots back, clearly tired himself. You shake your head “no”, and settle back against the pillow. You feel his fingers lift to pet against the furry ears still lingering atop your scalp, but you can’t be bothered to say anything. The sensation is nice, and it quickly lulls you back to sleep.

“Night,” you mumble, drifting off, and you hear him chuckle.

“Good night.”

* * *

In the morning, you wake up safely tucked into Satan’s embrace, and the two of you end up lounging in bed talking for a fair while. You only decide to start the day once your stomach growls, in need of some breakfast.

Exiting your room together (Satan being sure to remind you to cover the bite marks on your neck) the two of you make your way towards the kitchen, but are stopped by a frowning Leviathan.

“What’s up?” you ask, and the otaku motions over his shoulder down the hall.

“Lucifer found some weird stain on the carpet this morning. He’s currently patrolling and is trying to find the culprit.”

At his words, you and Satan freeze. You turn to look at each other—realization shining in your eyes.

You’d both left the scene of your love making without bothering to check if you’d…left a mess.

Well shit.

“Thanks for letting us know, Levi!” you say, grabbing Satan’s wrist and tugging him up the hall.

You need to clean up _now_.

After all, the last thing you need is Lucifer to start asking about _how_ the stain happened.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I hope everyone enjoyed >3<
> 
> As I've mentioned before, I'm on tumblr under the name joonie-beanie. I've been writing a handful of OM! Headcannons, so if you want to check them out, please head on over to my blog!
> 
> And please feel free to leave a comment! I always love hearing what you all think <3


	13. Helping Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, I decided to write something for Barb!
> 
> I feel like we still don't know a ton about him, but I'm hoping I managed to keep him fairly in character nonetheless.

**Pairing** : Barbatos x Reader

 **Word Count** : 5,526

 **Preview** : The royal butler decides to pay you a visit when he hears that your back is acting up.

However, when he offers to give you a massage, things get a little out of hand.

* * *

Obviously, you’re not as close to the residents of the Demon King’s Palace, or the other exchange students, as you are with the demon brothers. That’s to be expected, considering you literally live with the seven demons, and are pretty much around them at all times.

However, your relationships with the others are far from distant.

In fact, for the last two months, Diavolo and Barbatos have been inviting you over for tea every Sunday evening.

At first, you’d found it a bit strange to partake in a tea party so late in the day, and on a Sunday no less, but you’ve grown quite fond of your quiet evenings with the Devildom Prince and his faithful butler. Usually conversation is pleasant. Diavolo loves to ask you about your experiences in the human world, and never gets enough of your stories—even if it’s just you retelling simple parts of your day.

It has also been a good opportunity to get to know Diavolo and Barbatos more. Diavolo is very forthcoming with any information you’d like to know, but still tends to have this…front about him. Like he’s willing to let you in, but just not too deep. After all, he _is_ the ruler of the Devildom, so you don’t blame him for keeping certain things to himself.

Barbatos…also feels like a puzzle, but a puzzle that with time, he will gladly let you put together. In the past month, you’ve managed to learn an array of information about him—his favorite foods, what he likes to drink, what he does when he’s not tending to Diavolo, etc.

Apparently, he enjoys baking, reading, and taking long, hot baths. He’s always formal out of habit, but ever so slowly has begun to shed such formality with you—making little remarks that would have seemed out of character in the past, but are becoming much more frequent nowadays.

In fact, last week when you’d showed up exhausted, he’d quipped about whether you were having any “ _late nights”_ with the brothers. The twinkle in his eye had confirmed that yes, he was implying it in a sexual manner, and Diavolo’s full belly laugh when he’d seen the shock and embarrassment on your face had echoed throughout the entire castle.

So, least to say, you and Barbatos are starting to get along quite well.

Unfortunately…you’re not sure that you’ll be able to make your weekly tea tonight—on account of the fact that you can barely walk.

Hand pressed against your lower back, you openly groan in pain as you press to your feet. You need to get to your DDD to let the two know of your predicament, but of course you’d managed to leave your phone on the other side of the room.

With your body curved at a horribly awkward angle, you stagger your way across the wooden floor. You think the source of your problem is a kink in your neck, that is throwing your entire body out of alignment, but you can’t say for sure considering _everything_ hurts.

Sighing, you unlock your DDD and open up the messaging app. You click into your chat with the royals.

 **You** : _Hi there. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it tonight. I’m not feeling too well…_

It only takes a few seconds before Diavolo responds.

 **Diavolo** : _I was actually just about to text you. Something quite urgent came up, so I’m unavailable this evening_.

 **Diavolo:** _Also, I’m so sorry to hear you’re not feeling well! Please, be sure to get rest and take care of yourself!_

Smiling at his kind words, you respond with your gratitude. A moment later, you see ellipses pop up at the bottom of the chat, but they soon disappear. No message comes through, and you frown a little. However, after another few seconds, you receive a new notification.

A text from Barbatos, but outside of the group chat the two of you share with Diavolo.

 **Barbatos** : _May I ask what’s the matter? I was intending to still invite you over for tea since I enjoy your company regardless._

 **Barbatos** : _If you’re ill, however, I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do to help._

You’d be lying if you said a small part of you didn’t swoon at his concern, and the declaration of the fact that he enjoys having you around.

 **You** : _I have a kink in my back, and it’s honestly affecting my ability to do…anything, at the moment. I would have loved to have tea with you, though._

Barbatos responds right away.

 **Barbatos** : _If it’s alright with you, I’d be more than happy to bring the tea to you instead. Lord Diavolo has already departed for the evening, and I have nothing else to do._

 **Barbatos** : _Plus, I’ve heard that I’m a pretty skilled masseuse, as well. I may be able to assist with your current ailment._

Your heart flutters a bit at the idea of letting Barbatos massage you, since you’ve yet to be physical with the butler beyond hugs, but you can’t deny how appealing a massage sounds right about now. Your muscles are oh so sore, and at this point, you should be accepting any type of help you can get.

 **You** : _I don’t want to impose, but that sounds wonderful…_

 **Barbatos** : _Think nothing of it. I will be over shortly. Do not feel the need to come and greet me, I shall ask Lucifer to guide me to your room_.

You text back your confirmation before stumbling back to your bed—rolling onto the messy sheets with a pained hiss as you wait for Barbatos to arrive.

* * *

Only 20 or so minutes later, you hear the sound of knuckles wrapping against your bedroom door.

“Y/N?” It’s Lucifer’s voice. “Barbatos is here to see you.”

“Come in,” you call, knowing full well that you probably look a mess—laying belly down on your mattress with one leg hiked high, and one arm hanging low. It’s the comfiest position you could find, though.

Lucifer turns the knob and steps into the room first, a frown tugging at his lips when he notes how you’re positioned on your bed. Barbatos follows him in, worry in his eyes as well, but he still manages to smile.

“My, you weren’t kidding when you mentioned having a kink in your back.”

“I think death is approaching,” you respond, overly dramatic, and your words have both Barbatos and Lucifer chuckling.

“I shall leave you two to enjoy your tea. Please contact me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Lucifer.”

With that, the Avatar of Pride makes his way from your room—closing the door behind him. Now, it’s just you and Barbatos.

“I think the tea may have to wait,” he comments, moving to set the basket he’d brought with him on the table at the far side of your room. You note that it’s woven wood—practically a picnic basket, and smile a little. How cute.

Forgetting about your pain for a moment, you watch as the butler opens the basket up and reaches inside. You expect him to produce some tea cups, or saucers, but instead he pulls out what looks to be a bottle of oil.

Realization strikes you, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

“You know, Barbatos, you really don’t need to give me a massage…,” you tell him quietly, mumbling the words as you watch him begin to roll up his sleeves. He’s dressed more casually than usual—his overcoat and tie nowhere to be found. Instead, he’s simply donning his green button up shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

It’s…a good look on him. Especially with the sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. And when he slowly plucks off his white gloves, revealing fingernails painted the same color as the highlights in his hair, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“It’s clear that you’re in desperate need of one, and I already reassured you that you’re not imposing,” he tells you, making his way to your side with the bottle of oil in his hands. Per usual, there’s a pleasant smile on his face as he surveys you.

You hope that you’re not blushing brightly enough for him to notice.

“It’s just that…I’ve never had a massage before, so…,” you trail off, and it’s not a lie. Massages have always seemed like a luxury to you, so you’ve never gone out of your way to get one, despite how much you’ve heard about their wonders.

“Ah,” Barbatos hums, a look of understanding in his eyes. “Well, we can always stop if it has an adverse effect on the situation. And I of course want you to feel comfortable.”

His words put your mind at ease. He’s always so kind, no matter who he’s talking to, or who is watching.

“So…how do we…start?” you ask, feeling far too awkward. You already have a suspicion that you know what he’s going to say, and yet—

“Are you mobile enough to take your shirt off?”

Ah, yep, there it is.

If there was any hope of hiding your blush before, there’s certainly none now. And yes, you’re aware that Barbatos is only offering to do this because you’re friends, and because you’re in pain. There should be no reason to be embarrassed by the situation, and yet you are.

You take a second to try and calm your mind.

“I…I think I can--,” you eventually say, attempting to sit up. However, as soon as you place your palms on the mattress and try to push yourself up, a bolt of pain shoots straight down your spine, and a high-pitched cry falls from your lips.

Barbatos’ hand is immediately on your back—a gesture of comfort. The warmth from his palm soaks through your t-shirt, and a small part of you wishes that he’d make a point of touching you more often.

“Well, I will take that as a _resounding_ no.”

There’s a perplexed frown on his face as he looks at you—his worry deepening by the second.

“Can you lift your arms, at the very least?”

You grunt, miraculously managing to lift both of your arms above your head. Barbatos breathes a laugh, the position a little amusing. You’re beginning to look like a horrible contortionist.

“Would you be opposed to me undressing you?” Your brain short circuits for a moment. “Since you were able to lift your arms, it’s likely the easiest option at this point.”

“Sure,” you respond without hesitation. You’re desperately trying to keep your wits about you, and yet, you can’t help the way your body jolts when you feel Barbatos’ fingers grip the hem of your shirt.

He pauses for a moment.

“Did I startle you?”

“No…,” you grumble, causing him to laugh. He drags his hands upwards—the t-shirt slowly peeling up your back. When he gets near your breasts, you manage to inch your body off the mattress so it doesn’t get…well, _caught_.

Of course, as Barbatos pulls the fabric past your chest, you also realize that you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra today—entirely due to the fact that 1. Your body was too stiff to attempt even putting one on, and 2. Bras suck.

So now here you are—Barbatos finally ridding you of your shirt—which means you’re entirely bare from the waist up. Oh, and the only thing saving you from being completely naked in front of the royal butler is the pair of shorts you’re wearing, which suddenly feel far too short, and far too tight for comfort.

“Are you alright?” he questions. His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you feel goosebumps rise on your flesh. You’re so used to the sensation of his soft gloves, that the skin on skin contact is making you react in ways you hadn’t expected…

“I’m okay,” you respond, nodding a little. You move your arms so they’re folded beneath your cheek, and you carefully turn your head—facing yourself away from Barbatos. The last thing you want is him seeing how red you’ve become.

“If so, then I’ll begin,” he says. You hear him pop open the cap on the bottle, and you take a quiet breath—trying to prepare yourself. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“Will do, Barb.”

You mumble the words without thinking, and it takes your brain a second to realize what you’ve said.

“I-I mean--,” your words cut off, breath hitching as Barbatos grips your sides. He moves his hands gently against your back, spreading the oil on his palms across your soft skin.

“ _Barb_?” he echoes, chuckling to himself. “That’s a first.”

“I--,” you shiver as he continues rubbing his hands up and down your spine. Apparently, you’re much more sensitive to touch than you’d realized. Just great. “—just…I mean. Slip of the tongue?”

“You may call me “Barb” if you so wish,” he responds, and you can hear the amusement lining his tone. The demon drags his hands back up to your shoulders, his thumbs kneading at the tense muscles near your neck, and whine leaves your lips.

“Good or bad?” he questions, and as another shiver rakes up your spine, you realize just how fucked you are. Your body, of course, aches beneath the surface, but your skin is just _so_ _sensitive_. It takes all of your willpower to keep from writhing against the sheets as he continues his ministrations—rubbing circles between your shoulder blades.

“Um…a little of both?”

He hums considerately at your comment, his eyes surveying you closely. Even as you attempt to stifle the instinctive reactions of your body, there’s a subtle twitch of your muscles—a small intake of breath, or a flex of your toes.

When he reaches your mid-back—his fingers curling around your sides as he presses his thumbs into the muscles near your spine—he hears you gasp. Your body stiffens, fingers digging into the sheets near your head. Barbatos debates stopping, but…he gets the feeling that you’re not in pain.

As the thought occurs to him, a little bit of heat rise to his face. Until now, he hadn’t thought twice about your current position, or the fact that he’s touching you so intimately, but…

Barbatos swallows, yet his hands continue on their journey down the length of your back. He works slowly, doing his best to thoroughly rub every inch of skin—hoping to soothe the tight muscles that lay beneath. Perhaps if he focuses on the task at hand, he’ll forget about the little whines that spill from your lips, or the way your body shivers beneath his fingers.

As Barbatos faces his own dilemma, you find yourself rapidly descending into insanity. Each second that ticks by with the demon butler’s hands roaming your body has tendrils of heat snaking through your limbs. As much as you attempt to ignore the way his touches are making you feel, it’s nearly impossible.

Quicker than you had expected, you feel arousal beginning to pool between your legs. You’d hadn’t intended to get turned on by the massage, but here you are—desperately trying to smother the array of embarrassing sounds that have built in your chest.

However, the instant Barbatos’ hands move to your lower back—thumbs pressing into the muscles near your spine—your lips part.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you moan, your body curving into the mattress. Your toes curl, knees bending as your calves lift from the sheets.

Barbatos’ hands still. You go stiff, all of the blood in your body rushing to your face.

“I…Barbatos, I am _so_ sorry, I—”

“I’ve never witnessed anyone react to a massage so… _vocally_ ,” he says, picking his words carefully. His fingers coast up your sides, once against making you shiver, and you bite your lip to keep from gasping when you feel his hair tickle your cheek.

“Would you prefer if I stopped now?” The words are whispered into your ear. You can feel his hot breath on your skin—the curl of his fingers around your ribcage as he holds you—and your heartbeat quickens.

“I…I don’t want you to stop,” you respond honestly, voice quiet. “But I’m not sure I can stop myself either…”

“I never could have imagined that you would be so affected by a simple massage,” he chuckles, his fingers giving you a little squeeze as he leans back, retaking his standing position beside you. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I didn’t realize I would be either…I don’t blame you if you want to stop.”

“As long as you’re alright, I would like to keep going,” he informs you, his palms coasting down either side of your spine until his grip is once again settled near the sensitive spot on your tailbone. You keen as his hands cup either side of your ass, thumbs working into the tense muscles at the center of your back.

“ _Hah_ …,” your fingers once again grip the sheets. Now that Barbatos has addressed your reactions to his touches, you feel a bit more playful. “Are you actually enjoying my reactions?”

He chuckles. “Would it be inappropriate if I said yes?”

The gears in your head grind to a halt. Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips. That’s not what you had expected.

“…Really?”

“Perhaps it is a bit disgraceful for me to admit, but…,” his movements still, his fingers flexing and giving your ass the lightest of squeezes. “…I would very much enjoy it if we could continue.”

You’re surprised to hear such words from him, but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t excite you.

You nod your consent. “Go ahead.”

Barbatos reaches for the bottle of oil at his feet, pouring a little more into his hands. You jolt when his palms encase one of your thighs—his touch dragging down your leg until he gets to your ankle. He then repeats the action on your other leg, a smile tugging at his lips as he notes your body’s instinctual response to his touches.

However, he doesn’t make comment. Instead, he focuses on working at the muscles in your thighs—his thumbs carving a path down the center of the supple flesh. As he does so, you become acutely aware of how close his fingers are to your clothed womanhood.

The realization causes more wetness to pool between your legs, and you bite your lip, wondering exactly how much longer you’ll be able to withstand the massage before you finally crack.

You want to say that your current affliction is entirely your fault—that it’s solely a product of your oversensitive body’s reaction to the massage—but you know it’s not. Barbatos is obviously getting something out of this situation as well, and that something definitely bridges beyond the pride of being a good masseuse. 

Your toes curl as he works at the muscles in your calves—a sigh heavy with need passing through your parted lips.

You want him to touch you more. Where you’re aching to be touched.

“Barb--,” you start, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassing question you’re about to ask, but you never get there. Barbatos presses his fingers into the back of your knee, and a moan tears from your throat.

The butler pauses, his gaze turning to your face. Until now, you’ve spent the massage facing away from him, but when he glances up, he finds that you’re returning his stare. Your entire face is red, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as a clear sign of your embarrassment. However, he can tell by the look in your eyes—your pupils blown wide—that you’re aroused.

His heart thumps painfully against his ribs.

“Barb, I--,” you don’t know what to say, entirely out of sorts. You’re ashamed, and horny, and a part of you wants to run away, but another part wants him to continue forever.

“Y/N,” he drags you out of your inner turmoil by speaking your name. One of his hands reaches forward, cupping your cheek. He leans in, your faces mere inches apart, and you finally notice the blush on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but there.

His gaze falls to your lips.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe immediately, and he closes the gap without second thought.

The kiss is tender—a little hesitant, but full of need, and not just from you. Sighing pleasantly, you mold your lips with his once more, and then again, but before you can turn the kisses into a full out make out session, you feel Barbatos’ palm on your ass.

His hand moves downward, sneaking between your snug thighs. When he presses his digits against your clothed sex, you can’t help the lewd gasp that leaves you. Your hips instinctively grind against him, seeking more friction, and you feel him smile.

“Shall I stop?” he whispers.

“No, don’t,” you shake your head, and Barbatos leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He’s pleased to hear those words.

Sitting back, Barbatos surveys you—watching you closely as he drags two of his fingers down the seam of your shorts. He hadn’t noticed before, but your arousal is already soaked into the dark fabric—a clear sign that you’d been enjoying his touches up until now.

When he finds that special bundle of nerves, drawing out another quiet cry falling from your lips, he chuckles. You bury your head in your folded arms, hips rocking back against his fingers.

“ _Ah, shit_ ,” you breathe, unable to help yourself. You’re already so stupidly pent up from the massage—even him touching you through your shorts feels delicious. And Barbatos can’t help but get hard at the sight of you—your almost naked body curving against the mattress as you lift your hips and rock your pussy back and forth on his digits.

Reaching his free hand down, the demon butler gently squeezes your ass, relishing the little moan it draws from you. He helplessly craves to hear more of your sounds.

His fingers leave your clit, but before you can think to whine at the lost, you feel his digits curl around the crotch of your shorts. You freeze, heart hammering against your ribs, but don’t indicate for him to stop. While you’re nervous, you want this.

And Barbatos makes note of your reaction, giving you a few ample seconds to express any discontent. However, you do not, and so the butler tugs your shorts to the side, revealing your womanhood. You bite your lip, wriggling as his other hand slips beneath your shorts—once again taking hold of your ass without the fabric barrier.

As he holds you steady, two of his digits once more slide between your slick folds, gathering your arousal. You expect him to go back to rubbing your clit, but instead he curls his fingers into your pussy, and a gasp falls from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, Barb.” You groan. Your fingers take hold of the bed sheets, lip tugging between your teeth as you feel him experimentally pump his fingers in and out of you—stretching out your wet walls.

He moves slowly—testing the waters, and you clench around him—enjoying the girth of his fingers. Barbatos can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Is this alright?” he questions, curling his digits. The action has you moaning, and you nod your head.

“More, please.”

Barbatos breathes out through his nose at that, a little amused at the sound of your need.

Kneeling against the edge of the mattress to get a better angle, Barbatos begins picking up his pace. His fingers curl against your walls, and he smiles when he finds your sensitive spot—a surprised gasp escaping you. Immediately your stomach is curving into the mattress—hips pressing back as you attempt to take him deeper.

Barbatos gives your ass a squeeze, eyes sparkling. He debates asking if you’re feeling good, but he already knows the answer.

With his finger still fucking into you—your hips now rocking back ever so slightly to meet him—Barbatos moves his other hand between your legs. His thumb rests against your clit, drawing languid circles, and your breath catches.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you bite the word out, muscles tensing. The demon butler feels your pussy clench around his fingers—orgasm quickly rising to the surface.

“ _Barb, please,_ ” you whine, tugging at the sheets. Your heart is racing, breathless pants falling from your lips. Always one to please, Barbatos is more than happy to oblige. He presses against your clit harder, rubbing quicker, and in less than a minute, you’re coming undone for him.

Moan slipping past your lips, you tumble into your orgasm. Your pussy contracts around his still moving fingers, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your body. The butler doesn’t pull his digits from inside of you until he sees your body go slack against the sheets.

“You’re certainly one hell of a masseuse,” you mumble once you’ve regained your bearings, causing him to chuckle.

“I can assure you most of my clients don’t end up with my fingers inside of them.”

“No?” you question, a playful post-orgasm glow on your face as you turn to look at him. He smiles fondly at the sight of your pleasantly flushed cheeks.

“No,” he reassures, eyes creasing as he seats himself on the mattress beside you. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, a sense of peace settling over the two of you. Then, your gaze falls to his lap. The tent against his slacks is quite obvious.

Noting where your eyes have strayed, Barbatos has the humility to blush.

“I apologize for my…reaction,” he quickly excuses himself, glancing away. “I assure you I didn’t intend to take advantage of you.”

Instead of responding, you press onto your hands and knees and turn to face him. With your face dangerously close to his crotch, you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“If you don’t mind, I’d be perfectly alright with helping you in return, Barbatos.”

The butler looks shocked at the offer, but after a few seconds, he lifts a hand and gently cards it through your hair—a soft look of hunger in his eyes.

“Only if you wish.”

Smiling, you immediately prop onto your elbows—knees folding on the bed beneath you—and reach out to fiddle with his pants. Within seconds, you’ve managed to free his length. Your hand immediately wraps around the base of his shaft, and Barbatos closes his eyes at the sensation, taking a deep breath.

You smile at his pleased reaction, your mouth moving to press a kiss against his slit before you stick out your tongue and roll it around the head of his cock. And when you take him into your mouth—your hand still fisted around the lower half of his length, stroking languidly—his breath catches. The fingers in your hair grip a bit tighter.

You giggle around his cock.

“Good?” you question, pulling off. Your hand moves in bolder strokes against him, making up for the absence of your mouth as you turn to stare up at the demon. There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.

“I believe you’re asking a question you already know the answer to,” he responds, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You smile cheekily at his words, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly around his length. You see his jaw clench.

“Good.”

Turning, you once more take the tip of his cock between your lips. You focus yourself on pleasing Barbatos—alternating between trailing your tongue against him, and sucking him into your mouth. The combination of your hand pumping his shaft, and your mouth concentrating on his head is quite honestly devastating, and within minutes the demon butler finds himself nearing his release.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice slightly strained. He gives your roots a little tug, and you release him from your mouth with an audible pop. You’re seriously going to drive him crazy.

“Yes?” you question, your hand continuing to stroke him. You feel his cock jump in your grip.

“Stay like this,” he says, keeping his hold on your hair. You take that as a sign to get him off with just your hand, and you don’t complain. If that’s his preference, then you’re more than happy to go with it.

Aware of his impending orgasm, you simply continue your ministrations—your fist pumping his shaft until he finally reaches his breaking point. With a shaky breath, Barbatos spills his seed into your hand. His chest rises and falls quickly as you pump him through his orgasm without missing a beat.

You only stop when he’s milked dry—his length beginning to go soft in your grasp.

“Is that fair payment for the massage?” you ask, looking up at him with a smile. He loosens his grip on your hair—his hand moving to cup your cheek as he stares at you. You can see the post-orgasm satisfaction swimming in his green eyes.

“No payment was required,” he tells you honestly. “But yes, that was very much enjoyable.”

A warm feeling of contentment settling in your chest, you move to sit up, but pause when you realize that you’re still topless. Eyes going wide, you cross your arms over your chest, face heating up, and Barbatos chuckles.

“After all we’ve experienced together tonight, you’re suddenly coy about me seeing your breasts?”

“You hush,” you tell him, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. You reach down to fetch your discarded t-shirt, and when you stand straight, an arm wraps around your waist from behind.

“You’re covered in oil, so I would suggest showering,” Barbatos tells you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. The contact is only for a brief moment—his touch disappearing as he separates himself, taking a step back—and yet your heart flutters. “I’ll prepare the tea while you clean up.”

“Okay…,” you agree, glancing over your shoulder at him. He’s smiling pleasantly, looking far too put together for someone that just came a minute before. There’s not a hair out of place on his head—or even a stain on his trousers.

How unfair.

Turning, you head into your bathroom to rinse off, and Barbatos immediately busies himself with readying your beverages for the evening.

By the time you return from your shower—t-shirt back in place, and a towel atop your damp hair, the room is set up for a tea party. Barbatos is seated on one side of the table, casually surveying a book that you’d left on your desk. One you’d borrowed from Satan.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking up so much of your evening,” he says when he spots you, setting down the reading material.

“Not at all,” you say, moving to join him. Despite the newly shared intimacy between the two of you, the atmosphere feels comfortable, and you’re grateful for that.

Standing, Barbatos pours you both a cup of tea, and things fall into place as usual. You spend a long while chatting—catching up on events of the previous week, and talking about whatever topics cross your mind. By the time the snacks are gone, and the tea has gone cold, it’s quite late.

“I apologize for staying until such an hour,” he says as you help him clean the table. The screen of your DDD indicates that it’s already past 11. You shake your head.

“Seriously, Barb, it’s no big deal. I lost track of time too.”

He can’t help but chuckle at your nickname for him. It’s a nickname that will be solely reserved for you to say.

“Still, it is a school night. I’d best not stay any longer, or I fear Lucifer will have my head.”

“Well, I can’t exactly disagree with that,” you respond with a laugh, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes trail on him as he finishes packing the basket he’d arrived with. He then picks it up, and starts for your door. You quietly follow after him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, although you already know you will. Of course you will—Barbatos is always at RAD during the week.

Nonetheless, the demon butler smiles at you.

“Yes, I look forward to seeing you.”

With that, he grasps the doorknob and pulls your door open. However, he makes it only one step into the hall before he pauses, turning back to face you.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You blink. “Hmm?”

“If you’d ever like another massage, please don’t hesitate to let me know. It seems to have worked wonders for you.”

A playful grin pulls at his lips, and he’s gone before you are able to fully digest his words. It takes you a good few seconds to realize what he means—your eyes looking down at yourself, and registering that you’re standing and walking without a sliver of pain.

“Ah!” you say, shocked, and you swear you hear him laugh from up the hall.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to leave a comment, because I always love getting feedback.
> 
> Also, feel free to follow me at joonie-beanie on tumblr. I've been writing other hc's, drabbles, etc over there.


	14. Stress Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read "Bath Time" or "Helping Hands", I would recommend reading those chapters beforehand, as this one is a follow-up to both!
> 
> Also, I can't believe I wrote 10k. Holy fuck.
> 
> Excuse me while I pass out.

**Pairing** : Barbatos x Reader x Diavolo

 **Word Count** : 10,061

 **Preview** : The Royals have been bogged down with a busy workload, so you decided to help relieve some of their stress in whatever way you can.

Read as: Barbatos has a thing for rope bondage, and Diavolo is just happy to be involved.

* * *

For as long as you’ve known Barbatos, you’ve assumed that the butler is perfect in every sense of the word. He’s skilled, and handles his tasks without complaint, and in a timely manner. He addresses his duties with a kind smile—never wavering.

Despite his busy schedule, he never shows signs of cracking.

…until today.

You walk into RAD that fateful Friday morning, and discover Barbatos in the student council room—frowning. Now, seeing Barbatos frown is not _entirely_ out of character. You’ve seen him frown in worry, and in concentration. He _does_ have emotions, after all, but…today he just looks stressed.

There are dark circles under his eyes. The way he’s hurriedly searching through papers—a few slipping off the table and onto the floor—is a sign of his current out-of-character state.

Without second thought, you stride into the room and begin picking up the papers on the floor. Barbatos startles ever so slightly when he notices you at his feet—too absorbed in his current task to have heard you approach.

He sighs.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Are you okay?” you respond to his quiet, tired words. There’s genuine concern in your eyes as you press to your full height, and hand the small stack of papers back to him. “I’ve never seen you like this before…”

“It’s been quite a hectic week…or two,” he admits, exhaling in relief as he _finally_ uncovers the report he’d been looking for. “Typically, like students, Lord Diavolo and I are able to rest on the weekends—only dealing with a few, small meetings here or there. But the last two weeks, every day is busy from dawn to dusk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say sincerely. You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Barbatos smiles at the gesture. Then, in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he sets the paper in his hand back on the desk, and turns to fully face you. He envelops you in a tender hug—one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other moves to cradle against the back of your head.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this sudden display of affection,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your ear as his cheek nuzzles against your hair. “I didn’t realize how much being unable to see you on Sunday would affect me during the week.”

His admission has your cheeks heating up ever so slightly, and you lift your arms—wrapping them tightly around his middle.

Due to Barbatos and Diavolo’s lack of free time, the two had been forced to cancel their tea time with you the previous weekend. You’d been disappointed, considering you’d gotten so used to ending your week in the company of the two, but there was nothing you could do about it. If they were busy, you’d have to suck it up.

“Will you be free this weekend?” you ask him, pulling back to look into his green eyes. He can see the concern, and longing in your gaze. Apparently, you’ve missed him and his Lord as well.

“I can work around your schedule, since I don’t have much to do. Of course, if you’re both too busy, I’ll understand, but—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead.

“I will double check the schedule and contact you later.” He reaches over and grabs the stack of papers—topped with the report he’d been looking for. As he takes the neat stack into his arms, he turns and flashes you one last smile.

“Thank you for the brief moment of peace. It is greatly appreciated.”

With that, he makes his way out of the student council room with the normal poise and grace he always exhibits. Once alone, you take a deep breath, and hold a hand to your cheek. It’s warm—painted with a light blush.

Really, it’s rare that Barbatos is the one to initiate a show of affection with you. Typically, you’re the one hugging him (although he always reciprocates).

The last time _he_ had initiated skinship was weeks ago, after he’d paid you a visit at the House of Lamentation due to your ailing back.

Memories of that night attempt to push to the forefront of your mind, and you desperately try to shove them away. It’s the middle of the day—you don’t need to be thinking about Barbatos’ hands on your skin, or the way his fingers had felt inside of you…the way he’d looked while his dick was in your mouth…his cute post-orgasm face…

Shaking your head, you smack your red cheeks. You don’t need to be thinking about those types of things during school hours.

Yes, it’s been a few weeks since that fateful day with the royal butler, and you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t crossed your mind sexually every so often since then. However, you’d gotten bogged down with school work—any of your scarce free time going to the brothers—so despite your longing, and Barbatos’ offer of another massage if you wished, you hadn’t gotten a chance to ask.

Then, of course, once your schedule had opened up, Barbatos’ had narrowed. His duties piled up—filling his days with work—and you’d have felt far too guilty asking him for anything on top of his already busy schedule.

Aside from last Sunday, you’d still managed to maintain your weekly appointment of Sunday evening tea with the butler and Demon Prince, but bringing up sexual favors while sipping on Earl Grey and eating tiny sandwiches _hardly_ seemed appropriate.

So, you’ve accepted that maybe it will be a while until you’re able to inquire about Barbatos’ services again. And while it’s a little disappointing, you don’t intend to push the matter. Barbatos already works so hard, and you don’t want to burden him with your sexual need.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the straps of your backpack, and nod to yourself. While you long for another massage experience from the royal butler, you can live without one. Right now, you just want his schedule to clear up, so you can resume your regular Sunday tea with him and Diavolo. And if that’s all you’re able to receive, at the moment, then you’ll still be satisfied.

Smiling, you finally step out of the student council room and make your way to your next class.

Hours later—as you’re heading back to your room following dinner with the brothers—you feel your DDD vibrate. Curious, you pull out the device and look at the notification lingering on the screen.

[ **New Text from Barbatos** ]

Your heart skips a beat—nervous to see the contents. There’s a big possibility that the royals are still busy this weekend, and that they won’t be able to squeeze you in anywhere.

You take a moment to calm yourself before clicking into the message.

 **Barbatos** : _I apologize for my late follow-up. It seems that Lord Diavolo and I will not be available for our normal Sunday Tea time again._

 **Barbatos** : _However, I am free starting at 7pm on Saturday evening, if you would like to come over. Lord Diavolo will be tied up with a meeting until a bit later, but he expressed interest in joining should the meeting adjourn at an acceptable hour._

 **Barbatos** : _I understand if you already have plans, but please let me know if I should expect you._

You’d already promised to have a self-care night with Asmo on Saturday, but honestly—you’re sure that he’ll understand.

 **You** : _That works just fine for me! I will be over at 7 tomorrow_.

Barbatos responds with a happy sticker, and you find yourself smiling. You can’t wait to see them.

* * *

The hours tick by slower than you think possible the following day as you wait for evening to come. 

Due to the addition into your schedule, you and Asmo change your self-care night to a self-care _afternoon_. Thankfully, Gossiping with the Avatar of Lust--while doing face masks, and sipping on mimosas--definitely helps to pass the time quicker.

The two of you finish up just before dinner, and head down to the dining hall together. You eat merrily with the 7 brothers—making conversation, and listening to their banter. By the time the table is cleared, and everyone’s bellies are full of food, it’s already nearing 6:30.

Hurrying back to your room, you make sure you look presentable. You mess with your hair—trading your shorts and tank top for a knee-length sundress. Not only has the Devildom been heating up lately, but you always try to dress a bit nicer in front of the royals. So, a sundress should be perfect for the occasion.

Throwing your DDD into a small purse Satan had gifted you some time ago, you sling the bag over your shoulder and make your way from your room. You run into Lucifer by the front door, and he surveys you with a knowing look.

“You’re headed to the Demon Lord’s Castle, correct? I’ll walk you part way. I’m leaving to meet someone in town.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping through the front door when he holds it open for you. The two of you then start away from the House of Lamentation, comfortably at each other’s sides.

“How did you know that I’m heading to the Castle?” you ask him as you walk. You don’t recall sharing your plans for the night with any of the brothers. Even when you’d changed the time of your plans with Asmo, and he had inquired, you’d just said that something had come up. (He had begrudgingly accepted that response—too curious for his own good).

“I had a meeting with Barbatos and Diavolo this morning,” he tells you, eyes ahead as he guides you through the crowded streets. “Diavolo was whining about how he hopes his meeting with the planning committee tonight won’t drag on too long, so he can join you and Barbatos before it’s time for you to leave.”

“I mean…how late can the meeting possibly drag?” you question, blinking innocently. There’s no way a meeting will last beyond…10…11pm, right?

“Depending on the matters that need to be discussed, I’ve witnessed the meeting last until 2 in the morning,” he informs you with a shake of his head. “Diavolo hates speaking with the committee more than anything, so I hope he’ll be able to wrap things up in a timely manner.”

“That would be nice,” you say honestly. “It seems like they’ve both been running rampant... Speaking of, how is your workload?”

You grin up at him, a knowing look in your eyes. Lucifer sighs, smoothing a hand through his dark hair.

“My time to sleep is limited, but for once, it seems that I’m not fairing the worst among the three of us. I hope your visit with Barbatos and Diavolo will help them relax a little.”

“I don’t know if I have that type of power, but I hope so too,” you laugh, pausing when Lucifer places his hand atop your hair. He regards you fondly—the two of you standing in the middle of the city street.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says, and then steps away. “This is where I leave you. I believe you know the rest of the way, yes?”

You nod, and he raises a hand—bidding you farewell.

“Don’t stay too late. If you need an escort home, text the group chat and one of us will come get you.”

“Will do, Lucifer~,” you drawl, tempted to roll your eyes. They’re always so overprotective of you—it’s not like you _always_ need an escort.

Lucifer flashes you the slightest of glares—lips tugging into a smirk—before he turns and disappears up a side street. Now on your own, you continue up the wide road—taking the familiar path to the castle. You arrive a few minutes later, and when you knock on the grand front door, it only takes a few seconds for Barbatos to pull it open.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says, eyes creasing pleasantly as he smiles. You can see the exhaustion beginning to settle into the small lines of his face.

“Of course. I was looking forward to seeing you,” you respond honestly. As he guides you into the castle, you can hear the chatter of distant voices, and assume that Diavolo’s meeting with the committee must have already started.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to prepare the tea yet.”

“No worries!” you say immediately, flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’ll help out if I can, too!”

Barbatos chuckles. “I’d appreciate that.”

Engulfed in a comfortable silence, the two of you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, Barbatos pulls out a kettle, and then moves to fetch the tea. However, when he pulls open the wooden cupboard, he pauses.

Curious, you step up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

The cupboard is entirely empty.

Barbatos places his gloved palms on the counter, his head hanging in defeat, and an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. You stare at him, shocked to see the crack in his professional demeanor.

“The other servants must have grabbed the last of it to serve the guests at the meeting…”

“It’s okay, Barb!!” You say immediately, jumping back and throwing your arms into the air. “We don’t need tea!! It’s not Sunday anyway!”

The butler turns to look at you, and can’t help but laugh at your dorky position.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, raising a hand to cover his face as he releases a few more chuckles. Your cheeks heat up a little, realizing you must look silly, and you drop your arms.

“Besides, I don’t want you to feel obligated to serve me while I’m here! This is supposed to be a break for you, since you’ve been so busy!”

“But if we’re not having tea, then what shall we do?” he questions, tilting his head to the side innocently. You blink, lifting a hand to your chin as you ponder the thought.

“Well…is there anything I can do to help you relax?” you smile at him kindly as you speak. “You’ve been working hard, so if there’s anything I can do to ease some of the stress off your shoulders, I’d love to help.”

Barbatos regards you curiously at the offer—like there’s an idea that immediately comes to mind, but he’s not sure if he wants to say it. You assume that perhaps he’ll ask you to help with a chore, or will ask for something like a foot rub. Oh! Or maybe to play a board game.

Instead, he ends up flashing you a small smile. He extends his hand, holding it out to you, and you take it without a second thought. Fingers slotting through your own, he then tugs you from the kitchen and back into the hall—leading you somewhere else.

“There is a hobby I have that helps me to relieve stress. It’s a bit…unorthodox, so if you’re not comfortable with it, then—”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Barb!” you interrupt him, a pout on your lips. “I want to help you unwind, so whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it.”

He gives your hand a squeeze, an amused look in his eyes. He doesn’t bother with a rebuttal—simply letting you think what you wish.

Silently, he guides you through the long halls. At some point, you pass the entrance to the magnificent bathroom you’d once discovered Diavolo bathing in. Your experience with the aphrodisiac, and Diavolo helping you out on that night feels like a fever dream. The thought of his stupidly large cock, and his hands on your body has you getting warm all over, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of the sinful imagery.

The event had happened months ago, at this point. Since then, you and Diavolo have never spoken on it, and you wonder if he regrets his actions—feeling like perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries with a guest in the heat of the moment.

However, considering he acts friendly and kind to you as always—still offering hugs, and other simple shows of affections—you haven’t bothered confronting him about it. As long as the two of you are on good terms, that’s what matters to you. (Even if you have occasionally fantasized about fitting his cock inside you since then).

“Are you thinking of Lord Diavolo?” Barbatos’ voice drags you out of your thoughts, a knowing look in his eyes as he regards you. You blush, embarrassed at having been read so easily.

“I…I just…I wonder, sometimes, if he solely helped me out of a sense of obligation, or if he enjoyed it as much as I did,” you admit quietly. Barbatos gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ve never talked about what happened, so…Agh, I’m sorry—is it weird that I’m talking about this with you? I don’t—”

“It’s not strange, Y/N,” he interrupts you with a shake of his head. “Lord Diavolo and I are quite close. Not to mention, I was there the night you were affected by the bath, remember?”

In that moment, you suddenly recall that yes—Barbatos had been there to see you in all of your needy glory—and you heat up more. If he notices, he chooses not to comment.

“While Lord Diavolo may have acted as he did to stop the effects of the aphrodisiac, I assure you he received just as much enjoyment out of your predicament as you did.”

Curious to the meaning of his words, you furrow your brow and stare at him. Barbatos just smiles—giving nothing away. Not until you start angrily pouting, at least. Then, he loosens his lips with a quiet sigh.

“I went to check on My Lord after I saw you return to your room, and when I approached his chambers, I could tell he was… _preoccupied_ with the affliction _you_ had given him.”

Meaning, he had overhead Diavolo jacking off to the thought of you after he’d left you alone in the bathing area to clean yourself up.

 _Ah_.

“Okay, can we stop talking about this before I combust, and die?” you ask, a hint of a whine slipping into your tone. You tug your hand from Barb’s grip to cover your blushing face. He chuckles.

“For someone so lewd, you certainly do get embarrassed easily by your own actions.”

“I’m gonna request that you _STOP_ calling me out like this, thanks,” you shoot back, glaring at him through spread fingers. He breathes a laugh, and you pause in your stride as he suddenly stops in front of a closed door.

Looking around, you realize that you’ve never been to this part of the castle before.

Twisting the handle to the door, Barbatos pushes it open and then ushers you inside. You regard the sizable room curiously.

It looks similar to any other lounge in the castle. The walls are lined with bookshelves and paintings. There are four couches—all placed in large square formation around where a coffee table would typically be. However, there is no coffee table.

Instead, about 8 feet from the ground, there’s a long, thick strip of bamboo. The bamboo is held up by tan colored rope—thick, professional knots secured to either end of the wood, and leading back up to hooks on the ceiling.

In fact, when you look closer. You can see that there are hooks mounted to the ceiling in multiple areas around the room. Not to mention the dozen spirals of rope hanging off hooks near the fireplace.

You swallow the saliva that has pooled in your mouth.

“You…use rope bondage to relieve stress?”

“Oh? You’re familiar with it?” he questions, stepping across the threshold of the room. He reaches up to grab one of the perfectly kept bundles of rope—trailing his fingers across the soft, red fibers.

You hold your arms shyly in front of you. This is a turn of events which you hadn’t been expecting tonight.

“I’ve always found it to be interesting, and beautiful, in a way,” you admit, purposely leaving out how you find it entirely too arousing as well. Just the thought of Barbatos tying you up has wetness already beginning to gather between your thighs. But, you don’t want to make it awkward—fearing that perhaps Barb doesn’t get any sexual gratification from the activity—so you stay silent about how much it turns you on.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to helping me relieve some of my stress, if this is what is involved?”

Your gaze shifts from the handsome butler, to the rope in his grasp, to the bamboo anchor in the center of the room. You wet your lips, and then smile at him.

“Of course. I’d be more than happy to.”

At your words, Barbatos steps forward—stalking over to where you’re standing just within the ring of couches. His mossy eyes regard you softly. You feel your heart hammering away within your ribs.

“Do you promise you’re saying that sincerely? I don’t want to hurt you, nor push you beyond what you’re comfortable with.”

“I know, Barb,” you tell him softly. You reach your hand out—fingertips skimming over slightly rough fibers of the rope. You’re sure you’ll feel a slight bite when he ties you up, but the thought only serves to heighten your arousal. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want to help. And I trust you. Please don’t worry—this is what I want.”

A pleased look settling on his face, he leans down and presses the briefest of kisses to your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear so.”

Taking a step back, the butler regards you contemplatively.

“I would hate to ruin your dress. And it’s easier to tie with less clothing in the way. Would you mind removing it?”

Your face heats up at the request, but you nod—moving to slip the straps off your shoulders. After all, he’d massaged you all those weeks ago. It’s not like seeing your body is anything new to him.

“Just the dress?”

It’s an innocent question. You want to make his job as easy as possible.

“You—”

“Hey, isn’t this basically just more work for you?” you interrupt him as you shimmy your dress down your torso to the swell of your hips. He chuckles, gaze flitting down to look at your sheer-lace bra. The black color matches your underwear—although the panties aren’t lace, nor see through. (You hadn’t accidentally wanted to flash a demon (or at least, reveal too much) in town if the wind decided to flip your dress up on your journey over).

“It does take effort on my part, but I don’t consider it to be “work”,” he tells you. “And yes, just your dress is fine. Your undergarments won’t get in the way.”

“Okay,” you nod, voice soft. You finish stepping out of your dress—discarding it onto one of the nearby couches. Barb looks over your form appreciatively, and you seriously wish you could learn how to control your blushes.

“It’s important that you stretch, first. I don’t want you hurting your back again.”

“What? Not interested in giving me any more massages?” you tease, eyes sparkling at him. He breathes a laugh.

“I never said that.”

As you bend over—touching your toes, and stretching out your tight muscles, Barbatos moves across the room to grab more spools of rope. The entire time, his gaze lingers on you—taking note of your level of flexibility.

He’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. The cogs in his brain start turning as he silently debates which position he should tie you in.

After a few minutes of stretching, it seems that Barbatos is finally satisfied to begin.

“This may take some time to tie. If you’re ever uncomfortable, or the rope feels too tight—please let me know.”

“I will, Barb.”

With that, the demon butler is quick to get to work. He instructs you to lift your arms, and you do so obediently—watching him as he wraps the rope around your torso, just beneath your bust. He stops every so often to check the firmness of his ties—making sure that he can slip a finger between the rope and your skin. He wants it to be loose enough that it won’t impede your blood flow, but tight enough that you’ll stay bound once he attempts to suspend you.

Before long, Barbatos has dressed you with a chess harness—your clothed tits pressing against the lacy fabric of your bra as the ties above, below, and between your breasts squeeze your mounds and push them outwards.

Satisfied with his work, he nods his head and takes a step away.

“Could you please sit on the floor, and spread your legs?”

His request reminds you of the growing pool of arousal in your nether region, but you comply nonetheless.

Sitting on the hardwood floor, you drop your arms to your sides and spread your legs. As you do so, the butler walks over to the fireplace. Just above the mantle is a hook—a strand of rope securely weaved around it. As Barbatos works on loosening the thick, hemp rope, you trace it’s path across the ceiling, and realize it’s the rope currently controlling the height of the bamboo anchor above you.

As the demon unfurls the rope from around the hook, the solid strip of bamboo moves closer to the ground. Soon, it’s only a few feet from the floor.

Satisfied with its new height—at least for the time being—Barbatos loosely wraps the rope back around the hook and then returns to your side. He kneels behind you, and you gasp when his fingers tug at the knot of rope between your shoulder blades.

“Too tight?” he questions, reaching to snag another bundle of red rope from the couch. You shake your head.

“Nope, just right.”

He hums considerately at your comment, sounding a little amused.

You remain silent as he drags more rope against your back—threading it through the bulk of your chest harness. Each pass of the soft fabric has goosebumps rising on your skin, and your gaze glances down between your still spread legs.

Hopefully since your panties are black, he won’t be able to see the wet spot that has formed…

You breathe shakily when Barbatos hefts the rope over the bamboo bar—giving it a tug. You feel the chest harness hug your tits ever tighter at the action, and you bite your lip to hold back from groaning. Honestly, if he touched your clit right now, you’re sure he could bring you to climax with little effort…

However, since you’re still attempting to be considerate of the fact that this is his stress relief, you don’t say anything. You remain carefully silent as he secures you to the anchor via the chest harness—an additional length of rope winding around your waist. He ties it to the bamboo as well—hoping to take some of the pressure off of your chest, seeing as he doesn’t want to bruise your ribs.

Once that’s taken care of, he moves in front of you. There are two more lengths of rope in his grasp.

For the first time in a while, Barbatos takes a moment to regard you. He’s been so caught up in his work, that aside from little inquiries as to your comfort, he hasn’t gotten a chance to really check in on you.

What he finds before him is a little startling.

Your cheeks are painted red—eyes blown wide, and lips slightly swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in order to try and control your reactions. As his gaze rakes down, glossing over your chest, he notes that your breathing is quick--your nipples taut against the thin cups of your bra. A tell-tale sign of your arousal.

A handsome grin tugs at his lips.

Reaching down, he squeezes the meat of your inner thigh with one hand, stretching your leg open wider. He lifts his other hand to his mouth—effortlessly tugging the white glove off with his teeth—before he’s dragging two of his digits gently up the crotch of your panties.

“My, I guess I shouldn’t have worried about being selfish with my request,” he chuckles. You pout at him angrily, eyes glancing away.

“Don’t tease me…I was trying to be polite…”

The pout on your lips fades away the moment his naked palm cups your cheek. Gently, he guides you to look at him—his face just inches from yours.

“I apologize for teasing,” he says. “I’m pleased to know you’re enjoying yourself beyond what I expected.”

To emphasize his words, he leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. Immediately you’re moaning, hands reaching forward to fist in his shirt—keeping him close to you. Your mouths slot together—slow, languid kisses being exchanged between you.

“Would you like to continue?” he eventually mumbles, and when your eyelashes flutter open, you find him staring at you—a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been present before.

“Yes, please.”

Sitting back, Barbatos tugs off his other glove and immediately resumes his work.

He starts at your ankles—wrapping the rope around you a few times, before tossing it over the bamboo--this time on the outside of the sturdy hemp, which is keeping the light-weight wood anchored to the ceiling. He repeats the action on your other leg, mirroring his previous actions, and then moves to make a tie just above your knee with a new spool.

This time, there’s an additional command.

“Lift your arms up.”

You do so, watching him with bated breath as he once again threads the rope across the slab of wood above you. This time, however, he pulls the rope tight—hiking your leg as high as it will go in combination with the ankle ties keeping your legs spread wide.

Once the rope is taut, he ties it around your wrists—letting you keep your arms bent. Your hand instinctively moves to hold onto the rope once the knot is finished, and you give it an experimental tug downward. The additional tension causes your legs to part even more—revealing all you have to offer.

“Are you, _ah_ , fond of having girls spread wide like this for you?” you ask, a little breathless as you watch him grab one final coil of the rope. This time he moves to secure it around your upper thighs, right near your pelvis. He threads it beneath the rope around your waist—tugging it tight, and truly making sure your legs are spread as much as possible. You actually start to feel a dull strain as he makes the final tie—mirroring it on your other leg, per usual.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he responds, smiling as he pulls on the rope in a few places—making small adjustments to the tension in certain ties in order to ensure that your weight will be evenly distributed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this, and I can confidently say that you’re making it far more entertaining than I expected.”

“Well, you’re welcome for that.”

Chuckling, he presses to his feet and moves past you. The butler makes his way to the fireplace, once more taking hold of the rope tied above it.

“I’m going to suspend you now,” he informs you, and your pussy clenches at his words. “If you feel pain, tell me and we will stop immediately.”

“Okay,” you breathe, licking your lips. In the next moment, you feel the rope around you dig into your skin ever so slightly—your ass inching off of the ground as Barbatos effortlessly moves the bamboo anchor higher into the air.

Within seconds—you're fully suspended, your body about 3 feet from the floor. The rope bites at your flesh, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you that you’re tied up, in the air, and at Barbatos’ mercy.

Since you don’t express any discontent, Barbatos re-secures the rope around the hook, and then makes his way to the center of the room. He takes his time walking around you—surveying his work. His fingers trail across your sensitive skin, making you gasp. Your legs jump against the bindings in reaction to his touches, but your limbs barely move--his skillful ties keeping you obediently held in the position he has chosen for you.

“ _Barb_ …,” you whine, not knowing how much more of this you can take. You’ve been horny since the moment you’d stepped foot into the room, and you’re sure at least an hour has passed since he began tying you—if not more. Your panties are practically _soaked_. You need some type of relief, and soon, or you honestly think you’ll explode.

Barbatos steps in front of you, two fingers hooking beneath your chin and angling your head up to look at him. He smiles.

“Is there a problem?”

There’s a mirthful glint in his eye. It’s clear he’s feeling more playful now that he’s in his element.

“I…please touch me.”

“I thought earlier you expressed worry in me doing “extra work”? It certainly sounds like you’re asking me to exert myself with that request.”

“Barb, _please_ ,” you whine, struggling against the rope as you attempt to lean up and kiss him. There’s no way he can deny you after all of this—not when you’re in such a state. “ _Please_. I need you.”

Your begging sounds like music to his ears, and he gives in a little—leaning down to kiss you. You melt into the sensation.

“How would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…I want your cock, this time,” you say honestly, mumbling the words embarrassedly against him. You feel bad asking. After your previous escapade, you’d gotten the feeling that Barbatos was more comfortable in pleasing others, rather than focusing on himself. After all, despite having gotten hard, he had never asked to have sex with you. He’d been content with getting you off on his fingers, and likely would have let himself remain hard without solace if you hadn’t offered to help him in return.

Barbatos pauses at your request.

“It’s okay, if you’re not comfortable,” you quickly say, understanding painted in your eyes as you regard him. “I just…have been thinking about the possibility of having you inside of me, since last time, so—”

“If I am what you want, then I shall give you what you ask,” he interrupts, leaning in to steal another tender kiss. A quiet moan escapes you.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering otherwise.”

He cups your cheeks, peppering you with kisses, and then steps back. You watch him with rapt attention as he fiddles with his belt—working to free his cock from it’s confines. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s already hard—straining against the zipper of his slacks.

Luckily, he’s skilled with his hands. It only takes a few seconds until his length is free—his slacks and the boxer briefs beneath them resting just below his pelvis.

“We should have taken these off, if you desired this outcome,” he comments, finger looping beneath the crotch of your panties. You pout at him, but don’t bother retorting. Right now, the only thing on your mind is Barbatos putting his cock inside of you and fucking you until you cum.

Noting your hungry stare, Barbatos doesn’t bother asking permission before he moves your panties to the side, revealing your slick womanhood. Grasping his length, he guides the tip of his cock between your folds—wetting himself with your arousal. When he catches your clit, you openly moan—body flexing against the ropes holding you in place.

Barbatos can’t help but smile.

“Always so needy.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a heated groan—the demon butler sheathing himself into your heat without warning. Your sopping walls allow him to glide in easily, and the sudden stretch has your eyes rolling back.

“ _Fuck,_ Barb,” you breathe his name, fixing him with the most pitiful face you can manage. You need him to move—now.

He’s more than happy to comply.

Barbatos rocks his hips back and forth gently, fucking in and out of you with care as he assures that you’re okay for him to move despite the abrupt intrusion. He feels your walls clench around him—seeking more—and he takes a deep breath at the sensation. You feel _so good_.

Gripping your waist, he thrusts into you with fervor. His speed increases, a blush dusting his cheeks as his gaze shifts between your blissful face, and your greedy pussy. In all his years, he’s never seen someone take his cock so beautifully.

Quick pants slipping past your lips, you instinctively tug at the rope wrapped around your wrists—accidentally spreading your legs wider as he fucks you. You can feel the strain on your thigh muscles, but right now, it’s the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way Barbatos’ cock is dragging inside of you—hitting you in all the right places.

“Please touch my clit,” you gasp, sensing your impending orgasm. You feel bad, being so close already, but you can’t help it. Barbatos’ cock throbs as he realizes how quickly you’re coming unraveled thanks to him. At this rate, he won’t last very long either.

Always happy to serve, the butler removes one hand from your waist and presses his thumb into your clit. The swift, side to side motion against the sensitive bundle of nerves has you choking on a moan—your head lolling backwards.

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” you bite, the muscles in your torso tensing. Barbatos can feel your pussy tightening around him, and he clenches his jaw. Keeping his rhythm, it’s only another minute until you’re crying out his name—body spasming against the bindings as you reach the apex of your pleasure. Your pussy milks around his cock, constricting so tightly that a curse actually falls from the demon’s lips.

With a strained groan, he pulls himself from inside of you—his seed spurting against your used pussy, with a few stray droplets painting your thighs.

You’re just about to whine at the sudden loss of him when the door to the room creaks open. Immediately, you’re ejected from the bliss of your orgasm—heart hammering against your ribs and eyes flying open as you turn to see who has discovered you and Barbatos in such a compromising state.

“I actually managed to get the committee to end the meeting early, and went in search of the two of you,” the Demon Prince himself speaks, stepping inside. “When I discovered our typical spot empty, and then noticed the lack of tea in the kitchen cupboards, I thought I’d better check here. Seems I was right to.”

Diavolo chuckles as the door clicks closed behind him. He reaches up to loosen his tie, his infamous red coat nowhere to be found.

“My Lord,” Barbatos speaks, bowing. You glance down and notice that the butler has already tucked himself back into his pants—looking perfect as usual. The only hint of his recently experienced bliss is a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead, and a dust of blush on his cheeks.

Oh, and the cum that’s leaking down your skin.

The Demon Prince smiles pleasantly at his butler before his heavy golden gaze shifts to you. Instantly, you’re feeling warm all over—embarrassed beyond belief to be seen by Diavolo in such a lewd state.

Your little fling in the bath with him is one thing, but being hoisted mid-air, legs spread wide, with nowhere to hide yourself is another.

“Diav—”

“Impeccable work, as always, Barbatos,” Diavolo interrupts you. He steps into the center of the room, reaching forward to grip the strands of rope parting your breasts. He gives the harness an appreciative tug, eliciting a gasp from you. His eyes sparkle at the sound.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“I see you were a little zealous today,” he continues, eyes falling to your used pussy. Your breath catches—gaze widening in surprise as Diavolo drags his finger through a stripe of Barbatos’ cum. Behind the Prince, the butler dips his head.

“Y/N requested it of me. I would be a fool to have said no.”

“Indeed,” Diavolo chuckles, his attention never leaving you. His large hands roam across your legs—skimming over the rope where it digs into the soft flesh of your thighs. There’s an appreciative glint in his gaze as he surveys your body—beautiful and helpless thanks to Barbatos’ rope work.

“You know, Y/N,” he begins after a minute, his fingertips trailing up the length of your arms, and making you shiver. He leans down to your eye level, smiling at you handsomely. “I was a little worried, following the incident with the aphrodisiac, that perhaps I had overstepped my boundaries. However, following recent events, I’m wondering if it’s not that a line was crossed, but perhaps that it’s me you’re not interested in.”

You shift your gaze to Barbatos, wondering if he had told Diavolo the outcome of the massage he’d given you a few weeks prior, but his face reveals nothing. He’s back to being the perfect butler in the presence of his Lord.

“Lord Diavolo, t-that’s—,” you swallow the lump in your throat, arousal flaring in your gut when Diavolo presses a finger beneath your chin, turning your attention back to him. “That’s not it at all. I promise.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow, waiting for you to explain. You take a shaky breath, muscles flexing beneath the bindings as your post-orgasm high begins to fade, making the bite of the rope more obvious.

“I…have wanted you—to have you, ever since that night. I just…didn’t have the guts to inquire about the possibility…I was hoping maybe you would approach me instead, and when it didn’t happen, I assumed the window of opportunity had closed.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, gently skimming his thumb across the warm flesh. “You are more than welcome to ask anything of me.”

“I want you, then. Now,” you breath, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly as you stare at him. Your words have his golden eyes darkening with hunger.

The months worth of unspoken desire fills the space between your bodies--igniting a flame in Diavolo’s blood.

“Say it again,” he commands. You strain against the bindings, wishing you could touch him.

“I want you, Lord Diavolo. Please fuck me.”

In the next beat, Diavolo is on your lips. He licks into your mouth, swallowing all of your needy little whines and moans. One of his hands moves to tangle in your hair—trapping your lips against his own—while the other finds purchase on your breast.

He slips a finger beneath the lace cup, and tugs it down without hesitation—freeing the previously covered mound. You gasp around his tongue, thighs flexing. You can feel arousal beginning to dribble down your cunt, pussy once again aching to be used and filled.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo rumbles, finally pulling back to give you air. The butler appears at the edge of your vision as you struggle to breathe. He places a hand over his heart.

“Adjust the height of the suspension, and then come here. It’s not fair of me to make you watch. Come and join.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Barbatos disappears from your field of vision, and a few moments later, you squirm as you feel yourself being hoisted higher into the air. The sensation stops when your pussy is at the same height as Diavolo’s growing bulge.

“I can’t be mad at the two of you for enjoying yourselves without me, when it acts as such good preparation,” Diavolo chuckles, two of his fingers slipping between your glistening folds. They push into your heat with little resistance, so the Prince adds a third. You feel a stretch, but it’s far from painful—a quiet moan sneaking past your lips.

He watches you with arousal swimming in his golden irises.

Leaning in to lap against the unmarred skin of your neck, Diavolo pumps his fingers in and out of you. Wet sounds fill the room along with your breathy whines, and the minute Barbatos steps up behind you—moving his hands to fondle your breasts—you let go of any remaining decency.

You throw your head back, body shaking as the two pleasure you. Groans fall from your lips, hips bucking against Diavolo’s hand. You crave him, desperate to feel your pussy stretched around his monstrous cock.

“ _Please_ ,” you beg, barely able to get the word out. Diavolo shushes you with a hot breath against your neck—canines nipping at your flesh.

“Be patient,” he tells you. “One more.”

He momentarily removes his fingers from inside you before pushing back in—a fourth joining the others this time. The sensation steals your breath away—body thrashing against the bindings. You’re so stupidly horny that you don’t even care if it hurts. You _need_ Diavolo inside of you.

“You must trust Lord Diavolo, Y/N,” Barbatos pipes up. You can feel his breath on your ear—his mouth moving to rest on the side of your neck that Diavolo isn’t currently assaulting with his lips, teeth and tongue. To accentuate his words, he rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers. Your pussy clenches around the Demon Prince’s digits.

“He’s only doing this so not to hurt you.”

“I _know_ , but—,” Diavolo cuts off your whining with a rough bite against the junction of your shoulder. You gasp at the pain, writhing, and once more he’s rewarded with your pussy gripping his fingers so deliciously. The Demon Prince’s cock throbs at the sensation, craving to be inside of you, but he knows he can’t take you as easily as others might. The last thing he wants is to break you.

…as fun as that idea may be.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises you, tongue lapping over the indentation of his teeth. A bit of blood pools in the shallow divots—the tangy red liquid making him groan deep within his chest. He pumps his fingers in and out of you for what feels like ages, continuing until there’s no resistance.

Then, finally, his digits leave you with an embarrassing squelch. You mourn the loss with a needy whine, eyes peeling open to stare at him. However, when you see Diavolo messing with his slacks—his cock springing free and standing tall against his abdomen just as you had remembered it—your protest ceases.

Instead, you’re left swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth—cunt throbbing as Diavolo presses himself back between your legs. Barbatos is by no means small with regard to dick size, but Diavolo makes taking the butler seem like child’s play.

“Remember to breathe,” The Prince tells you, tracing his length between your folds. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, and despite his warning, you feel your breath catch. Even four fingers are barely enough to prepare you to take him.

“Breathe,” Barbatos whispers against your neck, his hands moving to settle just beneath your breasts. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, and you finally suck in a shaky breath of air. Diavolo allows you a moment to ground yourself before he moves once more—managing to fully slide the head of his dick in, along with a few inches of shaft.

You see stars.

“ _Fuck!_ ” your entire body shakes, pain and arousal mingling in a dangerous combination. Your chest heaves, knuckles turning white with how tightly you’re gripping the rope binding your wrists. And yet, you can’t take your eyes off the sight of Diavolo’s cock, and the way it disappears inside of you. You don’t dare look away.

Hands gripping your waist, Diavolo takes a deep breath in through his nose, and then cants his hips forward. The rest of his length stuffs inside of you—stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth—and your mind goes white.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks.

For a frightening second, Diavolo worries that he has injured you.

“Y/N—”

“ _Please please please **please**_ move!” you cry, chest heaving. You struggle against the bindings, breaking off into a desperate sob. The Demon Prince and his butler share a surprised look. Then, Diavolo is grinning, ever so slowly rocking his hips into you. Each movement assaults you with a new wave of pleasure.

“You didn’t tell me that she gets like this,” Diavolo remarks, glancing to his long-time friend. Barbatos shakes his head, his hands once more settling on your breasts. When the butler flicks his thumbs against your nipples, a muscle clenches in Diavolo’s jaw—your pussy constricting around him.

“I had no idea it was possible,” Barbatos responds, but you don’t hear their conversation. You can’t tear your gaze from the spot where Diavolo’s cock vanishes between your walls. You’ve never been so full before—so stretched--right at your breaking point.

It feels _so good._

“Y/N,” Diavolo speaks your name tenderly, drawing you from your state of desperation. Your blown-out eyes turn up to him. He cups your cheek, brushing over the damp tear tracks on your skin. “What are your safe words?”

“S…Stoplight colors,” you tell him, and he nods. Leaning in, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Use them if you need to.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feeling better about your safety, Diavolo once more grips your waist, and begins fucking into your pussy with quick, smooth strokes. Each drag of his cock inside of you has you moaning—arousal rapidly building in the pit of your stomach. A part of you hopes that you’ll last long enough to cum with the Demon Prince, but when Barbatos settles his mouth against your neck—sucking at a particularly sensitive patch of flesh—you reach your climax without warning.

A cry tears from your throat. Your body spasms, pussy milking around Diavolo’s cock and hugging him so firmly that he actually snarls at the sensation. However, he doesn’t bother reprimanding you for the unprompted orgasm. No, instead he waits just long enough to allow the height of your pleasure to subside, before he begins snapping his hips into you with abandon.

Your lips part in a silent scream, Diavolo fucking you hard enough to make your tits bounce despite the upright position. As you struggle to maintain any sense of coherency, Barbatos hugs you tightly from behind, whispering quiet praises against your skin. It’s truly the only thing keeping you ground, at the moment.

“I can feel you getting tight again,” Diavolo remarks, the slightest growl in his voice, even as he chuckles. “Are you going to cum with me, Y/N?”

You shake your head violently. “I-I can’t. I _can’t_.”

You’re convinced that another orgasm will kill you.

Diavolo glances past your shoulder, to Barbatos. The butler nods his head. Without speaking a word, Barbatos knows his Lord’s request.

Pressing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder, Barbatos lowers one of his hands between your spread legs. Two of his fingers find your clit, and you choke down a sob. You desperately attempt to convince the royals that you’re unable to cum a third time, but the way your walls continue to contract around Diavolo’s cock says otherwise.

“Cum with me, and then you can rest,” Diavolo speaks, leaning in to capture your lips. He can taste your salty tears through the kiss.

“P-please,” you struggle to breathe, blurry eyes settling on the Demon Prince as he sits back—snapping his cock inside of you particularly hard. “ _Please_.”

“Please what?” Diavolo asks, golden eyes soaking in the sight of you absolutely falling apart for him.

“ _Please_ …,” you repeat, voice trailing off. You’ve been so adamant about your inability to orgasm again, but now—with Diavolo thrusting into you, and Barbatos’ fingers working at your clit—you’re once again on the edge of release. You sob, the sound broken.

“ _Please let me cum_.”

Diavolo grins handsomely.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

And you’re helpless to obey, your body spasming as your third and final orgasm of the night tears through you. Your chest heaves—struggling to take in air as Diavolo fucks you through your pleasure—chasing his own bliss.

Thankfully, he comes only a few seconds behind you—seating his length fully inside of you, and stuffing you to the brim as he spills his seed between your sopping walls. The sound of ragged breathing fills the room.

You fade out of consciousness for a moment.

“You did so well, taking Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos whispers into your hair, bringing you back into reality. He presses a soft kiss to your head. You whimper at his words, exhausted, and craving more praise and comfort.

Knowing that you need to be released from the suspension, Diavolo finally pulls his softening cock from inside of you. Immediately, his cum is slipping from your used heat—dripping down your pussy, and even onto the floor at your feet.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo speaks, taking a step back. The butler nods, swiftly moving to unravel the spool of rope secured above the mantle. Soon, you find yourself on the floor, both Diavolo and Barbatos working to undo the many intricate knots and ties.

It takes a few minutes—you whining and begging for affection the entire time—but finally the two free you from your bindings. As you move your limbs around, you can feel blood rushing back into certain areas of your body.

You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. For many reasons.

“You did beautifully,” Diavolo whispers as he scoops you into his arms. He moves to settle on the couch, cradling you in his lap. He brushes a few stray hands of hair out of your face, smiling when you reach up and cup his cheeks—tugging him into a kiss.

“I’m seeing many new sides of you today,” he remarks with a chuckle. You lean back, tiredly pouting at him.

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been fully tied up, suspended, and fucked by both a Demon Prince, and his butler, so.”

“That would explain it.”

He grins wider, a fond look in his eyes as he dips down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he does so Barbatos kneels at your side. There’s a pleasant smile on his face, his now-gloved hands gingerly trailing against your legs—dipping into the shallow marks left by the rope.

“How are you feeling?” he questions. His voice is tender, full of concern.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sore, and tired, but…I feel good.” You extend your arm—fingertips trailing against his jaw. Barbatos leans into the feeling, cupping your hand with his own. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me. Even though you may have exerted yourselves more, rather than relaxing tonight, like I was hoping you would do…”

“I can’t speak for Barbatos, but personally, I feel much better now,” Diavolo pipes up. The butler nods in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Yes, I agree. I feel quite relaxed.”

You roll your eyes at them, breathing a laugh.

“If you say so.”

The royals share a laugh as well.

“You need to rehydrate. Shall I fetch us some beverages?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Barbatos. It’s unfortunate we’re out of tea.”

The butler presses to his feet, bowing minutely. “It is. I will be sure to restock the pantry soon.”

He turns, heading towards the door, but your voice stops him.

“Wait--,” you speak, noting a clock on the wall nearby. It’s already past 11. “—It’s getting late. I don’t want to take more of your time. I know you still have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“I would think that Lucifer and his brothers will be concerned, should you return home in your current state,” Barbatos comments, and you pause, glancing down at yourself. You’re covered in rope markings all over your body, not to mention the hickies and bite marks now littering your neck. On top of that, you’re still not even sure if you can properly move on your own, let alone walk.

“I…”

“I was going to ask you to stay with us,” Diavolo pipes up, smiling at you. “If you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’d prefer to have you close tonight.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you can’t deny how appealing it sounds—spending the night in Diavolo’s arms. Especially considering how he’d just ruined you.

“Okay,” you concede.

“Good!”

You gasp as Diavolo presses to his feet, still securely holding you in his arms. “In that case, please bring the beverages to my chambers, Barbatos.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The butler then disappears from the room. Diavolo follows him out, but not before tossing a handily available blanket atop your naked form. Your grip at the soft fabric, pouting as you watch your cute dress get left behind on the messy, rope covered floor.

“My dress…”

“Barbatos will likely return and clean up before the night ends. I’m sure it will be returned to you by morning,” Diavolo reassures you. You curl your hand into the dark fabric of his shirt, glancing up at him.

“That’s still more work for him…”

“You need to stop worrying about us,” he scolds you, giving you a light squeeze. You knock your forehead against his chest.

“It’s hard. I want you both to stop being so busy.”

“Soon,” he reassures you with a chuckle, and you feel his lips press into the crown of your hair. “Then we’ll go back to having Sunday tea.”

 _Perfect_.

That night, you pass out tucked against Diavolo’s broad chest, before Barbatos ever appears with the drinks. At some point, a wet cloth drags between your legs, and a straw is placed between your lips, but you’re too exhausted to remember anything more than that. All you know is that when you wake up the next morning, Diavolo is gone, your bladder is full, and there’s a note on the nightstand addressed to you.

It’s Barbatos’ handwriting.

_Y/N,_

_Lord Diavolo would like to apologize for being unable to keep you company this morning. We promise to make it up to you at a later time._

_Your dress, along with vitamins, and other health supplements that will help you should you be ailing from the excitement of last night, are at the foot of the bed._

Blinking, you look down and realize that indeed your dress is folded neatly at your feet--a small gift bag beside it. But there’s no way you’ll need such medicine, right?

Slowly, you press to your feet, and immediately groan. Yep, _everything_ is sore. You’ve never felt so achy all over.

_Lucifer is here for a meeting. He will walk you home at 9am, once it is finished. Please meet him at the front doors._

_If there’s anything else you need, please let myself, or Lord Diavolo know._

_\- Barbatos_

You note that your DDD has been conveniently placed on the nightstand beside the note.

Clicking the phone screen to life—you pause.

It’s already 8:50.

“Shit!”

You rush to prepare yourself—dressing haphazardly, and running through the halls of the castle in order to meet Lucifer on time. You arrive at the front doors to find him waiting for you. He cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your current outfit. You’re adorning the dress you’d worn the day before, but beneath it, you’re also wearing a white turtleneck.

 _How curious_.

“…did you enjoy your stay?”

There’s an amused look on his face—one that tells you he won’t be fooled by whatever excuse you decide to try and come up with. So, you settle for giving him an honest response.

“I did.”

And you can’t wait until your next one.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to yell at me in the comments if you enjoyed!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who continues to read and review. It means a lot to me!


	15. Missing Ingredient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello there, it's been a while!
> 
> Sorry about that ;; I definitely have been struggling to write the last few...weeks? months? but I managed to get this finished! :D
> 
> This is actually my third attempt at a fic for Solomon. And it's inspired by an nsfw art of Solomon (and her MC Ethan, whom I adore) by @shokujin_art on twitter/tumblr! (whom I also adore!)
> 
> With that said, please enjoy the below filth.

**Pairing** : Solomon x Reader

 **Word Count** : 5,467

 **Preview** : Solomon needs help obtaining some "nectar" for a spell he wants to try, and asks you for your assistance.

Unbeknownst to you, the so-called nectar he needs isn't from a flower at all.

* * *

“I need your help.”

The smile on Solomon’s face is a little disconcerting. After all, usually it’s not _he_ who is asking _you_ for help, but…you decide to hear him out.

“With what?”

Your gaze is openly skeptical as you regard him, but his smile doesn’t waver.

“I need nectar for a spell I’ve been wanting to test out for a while. I was wondering if you could help me in that regard.”

You blink at him, confused. Nectar? How the hell are you supposed help with that? It’s not like you’re an expert with flowers, and you certainly have _no idea_ about flowers that reside in the Devildom.

“You…want me to help you find…nectar?”

He nods, bringing a hand up to his chin—his eyes turning towards the ceiling.

“Well…basically, yes.”

You narrow your gaze at his phrasing, concern growing by the moment. Exactly what the hell is Solomon playing at? You know he’s a bit of a sketchy bastard, and sometimes you feel like he can’t be trusted, but…so far, he hasn’t wronged you.

…that counts for something, right?

“Listen,” you say, poking a finger into his chest. His eyes widen at the action, and he pauses—staring at you as you continue to jab him. “I’ll help you, okay? But I better not be harmed on this journey to achieve whatever “nectar” you need. Got it, wizard boy?”

Solomon rolls his eyes at your nickname—catching your finger when you move to press your nail into his chest once more.

“You won’t experience any pain,” he says, laughing quietly. His eyes crease, a handsome smile lighting up his face, and for a second, you forget about your worries.

“I promise.”

* * *

The next weekend, you get a text from Solomon demanding that you come over to Purgatory Hall.

Today is the day—he needs your help with his nectar issue—and so, you pack up your bag and head over.

You’d attempted to ask him what retrieving this nectar would entail. After all, did you need to dress in hiking boots?? Would he be taking you out into the Devildom wilderness to try and find some rare, valuable flower?? But Solomon had refused to reveal any details.

He’d simply explained that it may take a few hours, and that you should just bring yourself, and any basic necessities.

So now, here you are—standing on the step to Purgatory Hall—waiting for Solomon to come and let you in. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the grand wooden door is pulled open.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble as he ushers you inside. The sorcerer can only laugh, keeping pace beside you as the two of you traverse the halls—heading towards his room.

“Sorry,” he says. His hand moves to wipe at his brow. You notice the tiny beads of sweat sticking to his skin, and curiosity fills you. “I was preparing.”

“Preparing for what?”

Again, Solomon reveals nothing. He easily laughs off the seriousness of your question, waving a hand in front of him as if to try and dissipate any of your worries.

“Preparing to retrieve the nectar,” he responds after a moment, flashing you a small smile. “I’ve been trying to gather the ingredients for this spell for many, many years, and this is the last, and hardest one to collect.”

“And…you need my help in particular with this…why?”

Your eyebrows are knit together on your forehead, and you’re sure that Solomon notices your trepidation, yet he chooses not to address it. Instead, he continues a few more strides up the hall before stopping.

You’ve already arrived at his room.

He reaches out to grab the doorknob, his silver eyes darkening playfully as he regards you. The subtle shift in his demeanor has butterflies tickling the inside of your stomach, and you swallow nervously.

While you’re not as magically inclined as Solomon, you can still feel the magic leaking from inside of his room. He obviously has something planned for you once you step inside, but you’re not sure what.

“…you promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” you remind him, pouting angrily—attempting to hide your apprehension. Your words have Solomon rolling his eyes, and he releases the door knob.

Standing straight, he jerks two of his fingers towards you, and suddenly a golden magic circle encases one of your wrists.

Your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can think to say anything, he’s making another motion with his hand. Quickly, the magic circle tugs you forward, and within seconds, you find yourself directly in front of Solomon.

His previously kind smile is now replaced with something more akin to an amused grin.

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” he asks, free hand moving to gently brush a few stray hairs from your face. The gesture contradicts his current attitude, making you feel torn. Anxiety and excitement mingle in your gut—both turned on and concerned by your predicament.

“You did, but you’re kind of a bastard, so I want you to reassure me…,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you stare at him.

This isn’t exactly the first time Solomon has used his magic to fluster you. No, many times now he has casually used spells to fuck with you—making you more sensitive to the touch, or creating a brief gust of wind to flip your skirt up while at RAD. It has kind of become your thing—picking on each other, with Solomon bridging into sexual territory every so often.

Actually...you’d made out with him a few weeks prior—both of you slightly intoxicated, and drawn in by the club music at The Fall—but it had never gone beyond kissing, and groping. Despite that, the sexual energy between the two of you had been palpable.

Yet, nothing had come of it. You’d mutually parted—preserved your friendship—and gone your separate ways that night. You’d assumed that Solomon simply wasn’t interested in doing those kinds of things with you—that any playfully sexual advances towards you were done in the spirit of friendship. Which you were okay with.

But…now that you’re standing here—hair risen all across your body at the magic leaking from his room—you know that he has big plans. And judging by the glint in his eyes, and the way his thumb is carefully caressing your cheek—you’ll certainly be in for a treat.

“When you step beyond the threshold of this door, no harm will come to you,” he speaks calmly, dipping down to press a soft kiss to your lips. Almost instantly, you’re melting into him—heart hammering against your ribs as your defenses are so easily torn away.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, and his fingers leave your face. You hear the doorknob turn.

“I shouldn’t, but I do.”

He laughs at that, and in the next beat, he’s pulling you inside.

His room is just like you remember it—spacious, and dark. His desk is littered with an army of ingredients, and spell books. His bed is nicely made, and there’s a single, leather armchair tucked into the corner of the room, near the fireplace.

The only thing out of the ordinary is the golden blob of magic sitting in the center of the room. There’s an intricately drawn circle of chalk surrounding it—many runes, and foreign words tied into the dormant spell.

“I’m beginning to think that this “nectar” you need isn’t exactly from a flower…,” you mumble, sending him a little look when he once again uses the magic circle around your wrist to force you farther into his room. Solomon only smiles, guiding you forward until you’re standing inside the chalk ring—the blob of magic at your feet.

“To be honest, for the longest time I thought I was searching for a rare flower,” he says, sighing as he recalls his strife. His footsteps echo throughout the silent room as he scoots arounds the circle, shaking his head in disappointment. “This is a spell I found in an ancient text, and the words were quite hard to decipher. At some point, I picked out the word “nectar”, but figuring out what _kind_ of nectar took far too long.”

As he speaks, you feel the spell at your feet start to buzz to life. And when your gaze flickers to the floor, you note that the blob of magic is starting to…move?

With each passing second, as the spell activates, the ball of golden magic expands and contracts—bulging here or there. You’re forced to divide your attention between Solomon—who is now standing in front of the leather chair—and the magic at your feet (which looks ready to explode).

“Solomon…,” you speak nervously, gasping when a second magic circle suddenly encases your free wrist. You turn to look at the sorcerer just as he jerks his fingers towards the ceiling—forcing your arms high above your head, where the spinning circles then merge into a single, larger one.

“H-Hey! You still haven’t told me what the hell is going on!” you stutter, feeling warmth on your cheeks as you realize your current state of vulnerability. With your hands bound like this, there’s no way you can escape whatever Solomon has planned.

“And yet, you still look like you’re enjoying this,” he teases you. You attempt to glare at him, but there’s no real power behind it, considering he’s right.

“Bastard…”

Solomon laughs at that, and he steps into the chalk circle without warning. His hands find your waist, and he kisses you without an ounce of hesitation. His lips are firm, and warm—moving against your own languidly, like he’s got all the time in the world.

The show of intimacy successfully distracts you from the ball of magic at your feet. Well…at least until the energy takes a new form—multiple, long limbs of magic shooting out, and wrapping around you.

“ _Mmph!_ ” you squeal around his tongue, rearing back in shock. You look down, wriggling as the warm tendrils of magic climb your body. One is already hugging your waist—replacing the feel of Solomon’s hands as the wizard takes a step back—watching everything unfold with a self-satisfied grin spreading across his lips.

“Basically,” he speaks, calm as ever—as if you aren’t being molested by magic. _His_ magic. “I finally figured out that the “nectar” I’ve been searching for is the arousal of a human. The product of their pleasure.”

His words have you feeling even hotter—an embarrassing gasp leaving you as one of the tendrils wraps around your thigh, and wiggles against your clothed sex.

“Really, of course I finally figured it out once I’m here in the Devildom.” He shakes his head, crossing his arms disappointedly. You bite your lip, trying to stifle another lewd sound as the tendril around your waist curls up between your breasts.

From what you can tell, there are 2…well, _tentacles_ of magic in total—with one occupying your legs, and the other busying itself with your torso.

“I-If you need human arousal, why not use your own?” you ask him, already quite breathless. The sound makes Solomon’s eyes sparkle.

“What? You think I want to sit around and jerk into a cup for god knows how long?” he laughs, eyes raking down your body. His gaze stops near your hips, and he makes a motion with his hand. In response, the tentacle currently rubbing softly against your pussy pulls away—hooking under the waistband of your pants.

In one swift motion, it tugs the garment down your legs, and discards it onto the floor. You flush hottly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to preserve a sliver of modesty—but the tendril of magic easily slips its way between your legs, once again rubbing against your pelvis.

“And besides, this route seemed _much_ more fun.” He smiles cheekily, a dark sort of amusement lingering in his silver gaze. “I always pegged you as the type to enjoy a situation like this anyway. You know, a damsel in distress with a bit of kink and sex thrown in.”

You send him another look, but can’t say anything. Because…he’s not necessarily wrong. You can’t deny his words, nor can your body deny its reaction to your current predicament. Each pass of the magic between your legs or against your breasts has arousal pooling in your gut.

“Of course, if I’m wrong, just tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Despite the teasing look on his face, his words are genuine. He won’t do anything you’re not okay with. Even if he needs the ingredient for his spell, it seems he’s not entirely an asshole. At least, not to you.

“N…no…I’m okay with this,” you admit meekly, causing him to smile. “But…how are you retrieving the… um…”

You’re too shy to say it, now, realizing what the nectar actually is.

“Well, I did mention that all of this took time to prepare,” he responds, allowing the tendrils of his magic to continue roaming your body freely. It seems like he’s able to control them when he wants, but otherwise, they’ll continue working towards their goal on their own.

“Since I was able to get you to agree to help me out—”

“Without telling me what would actually be involved.”

He sends you a look—a little annoyed at being interrupted despite so kindly answering all of your questions.

“Oh I’m sorry—,” he makes a motion with his hand, and suddenly the tentacle around your chest is tearing your shirt away with a definitive _rip_. In the same beat, the tentacle between your legs slips beneath the crotch of your panties—tugging them off your body.

Somehow, it manages to discard the garment near Solomon’s feet, so he bends down and picks up the cotton fabric with a smile—the large spot of arousal hard to miss, even in the dim light of his room.

“—but do you really have the right to be sassing me about my ethics, when you’re already wet enough to stain your panties? Clearly, you’re turned on despite me not telling you, love.”

You open your mouth to attempt to defend your pride, but the only sound that comes out is a lewd gasp. The smooth magic between your thighs resumes its motions—now rubbing up against your wet pussy with no barrier. The contact makes you ache—your clit already so sensitive to the touch—and a satisfied grin settles on Solomon’s face.

“As I was saying,” he continues with his explanation calmly, but his gaze doesn’t leave the sight of you. With your panties gone, and your shirt in tatters on the floor, the sorcerer would be a fool to not watch the show unraveling in front of him.

“It took time to prepare. I had to figure out what would be the best way to retrieve the nectar without letting it go to waste. After all, sex can be so messy.”

Solomon pauses for a moment, soaking in the sound of your voice as you whine—your body flushed from head to toe as the thick tentacles of his magic keep their pace, rubbing against you in all the right places.

His slacks are beginning to feel a little tight.

He coughs.

“Basically, the raw magic will absorb your “nectar”, and will keep it trapped until I can draw it out.”

“S-So what?” you whimper, fingers helplessly curling and uncurling above you. His magic circle allows your wrists no wiggle room. “Y-You’re just going to sit here and watch your magic molest me until you’ve collected enough of my arousal for your spell?”

“Molest is a strong word,” Solomon says, seating himself in the leather chair. He leans back, letting his legs spread wide, and your eyes fall to the tent in his pants. “I prefer _fondle_. Or, _pleasure_. After all, you’re feeling a fair amount of pleasure right now, aren’t you?”

With a small inclination of his fingers, the tentacle between your legs pulls back—the thick, rounded tip pressing directly against your clit. It moves in miniscule side to side motions, and Solomon sees the way your entire body flexes—thighs shaking with each pass over your bundle of nerves.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you pant, arms straining against their bindings. The wizard chuckles.

“Shall I make you cum like this? Or would you prefer to wait? Personally, I have no qualms making you orgasm until you’re begging me to stop, but I also don’t want to break you. You’d be a pain to put back together.”

“Asshole,” you remark.

With the tentacle still swiping across your clit, you know it won’t be long until you reach your climax. And while you know cumming will only serve to make everything more sensitive afterwards, you can’t bring yourself to pass up the offer of an orgasm. You’re already too close, and your body is begging for a release.

“I…I want to cum. _Please_.”

“Look at you, saying “please” even though you’re calling me an asshole.”

You so desperately wish he was within kicking range, because if he was, you would absolutely lift your leg and wipe that cocky grin straight off his face.

Luckily, the magic between your legs quickly distracts you from your anger towards the sorcerer. 

As if hearing your plea to cum, it begins to work even faster—searching for the pattern that will undoubtedly drag you into the depths of your pleasure. And once it finds it—lewd gasps and moans falling from your lips—the tentacle keeps at it until you’re tumbling into your release.

Sensing your orgasm, the magic limb presses up against your pelvis. It slots between your folds, rubbing languidly as you experience your high.

You can only guess that it’s currently collecting all of the precious “nectar” that has leaked from your throbbing pussy following your climax.

“ _Shit_ …”

Apparently willing to give you a moment to breath, the magic tendril occupying your sex continues its slow motions. In its place, the tentacle that had been lazily fondling your chest until now gets to work. It fully wraps around both of your breasts—squeezing, and tugging—almost as if it’s attempting to milk you.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation—quiet, hot breaths filling the space in front of you as the tailend of your orgasm finally passes. Yet, you can still feel the embers burning in your gut, threatening to reignite with any simple touch.

“Feel good?” Solomon questions, drawing you out of your haze. Your eyes fall to him, heart thundering in your chest when you notice that one of his hands has strayed beneath his trousers—fingers enclosed around his length through the fabric of his underwear.

“Perverted wizard,” you speak instead, completely ignoring his question. The smallest of grins grace your lips, a breathy laugh leaving you. “Getting so hard from watching me. Shouldn’t you be ashamed?”

He chuckles at your words, looking amused by your wit.

Truly, you’re a fool to be speaking to him like that, as if he _isn’t_ the one in charge right now. While he’s been kind to you thus far, he has no issue in changing that.

“Be a good cock slut and shut the hell up.”

He flicks his fingers, a fake smile plastered on his face, and in the next moment your pussy is filled to the brim with his magic. The tentacle reaches deep—snaking between your walls until the soft head is pressed flush against your cervix.

The abrupt intrusion has you crying out, wrists once again straining against their bindings as you struggle to adjust to the new sensation. And yet, Solomon grants you no grace period.

The magic begins to move—sliding in and out of your wet walls at a swift pace that has your mouth opening, but no sound coming out. At the same time, the tentacle at your chest squeezes harder, the tip of the appendage moving to swirl around one of your hardened nipples.

“S-Solomon,” you choke out, knees buckling under the intensity of his magic. The way his name sounds falling from your lips—desperate and overwhelmed—has his cock jumping against its confines.

His jaw clenches, fingers squeezing a bit tighter as he strokes himself.

“I’d slow their pace down, but I can hear how wet you are from here,” he remarks, silver gaze falling to the space between your thighs. As the tentacle grinds inside of you, small amounts of your arousal are soaked up by his magic. As they’re absorbed, the liquid pools in the main body of the magic—the blob still resting at the center of the chalk circle which is keeping his spell active.

“I called you a cock slut teasingly, but it seems you actually are one. How precious.”

 _“Fuck off_ ,” you pant, body writhing as the embers in your gut quickly reignite into flames—hot, intense, and growing with each second that passes.

He laughs at your exclamation, pressing to his feet. With deft fingers, Solomon quickly rids himself of his pants, and underwear—the pieces of clothing lying abandoned on the floor beside your own. And when he moves forward—once again entering the magic circle, and stepping into your personal space—you feel your heart skip a beat.

Your pussy clenches around the tentacle still working inside of you, nervous butterflies blooming in your tummy when you see the dark look in Solomon’s eyes. Like he’s finally giving you a glimpse of the real him—not the kind façade he always shows in front of the others.

“If you’re going to use your mouth in such a vulgar fashion, I know a better way.”

Suddenly, without warning, the magic circle encasing your wrists presses downward—forcing you to your knees. The tentacles adjust accordingly, but continue their ministrations as normal. The new position, however, has you eye-level with Solomon’s weeping cock.

“Say _ah_ ,” he says, canting his hips forward. The tip of his length smears against your hot cheek, and you flit your gaze up to him—aroused, and a little scared.

He’d be lying if he said the fear didn’t turn him on.

“No?” Solomon tangles a hand in your hair—firm, but not enough to hurt. He holds your stare, his eyes expectant. Yet, he doesn’t force himself upon you. After all, he gave you his word that he wouldn’t hurt you, and while right now he would love nothing more than to stuff your mouth with his cock, he won’t if it’s pushing you too far.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves (although it’s not easy to do, considering the two tentacles that are still very bent on pleasuring you for the sake of your “nectar”). Then—

You part your lips, hot breath fanning against his length.

“ _Aaah_ —”

Solomon looks genuinely surprised for a moment. However, he definitely won’t be wasting such a perfect opportunity.

“Truly a cock slut,” he says by way of praise—sliding his cock into your mouth before you can even think of responding.

The moment he hits the back of your throat—making you gag—you realize what you’re in for. There’s no way you’re making it out of this situation sane. Not with Solomon fucking your mouth, while his magic devastates your pussy, and fondles your chest.

In contrast to the quick, brutal pace the tentacle currently occupied with your sex has taken, Solomon starts off slowly. He rocks himself into your mouth, his silver eyes focused on you as your lips suction around him. Each time, he ventures deep—his cock sliding into you until you can take no more.

Tears blot your eyes, body tensing as you resist the urge to gag around him once again. Solomon notices your struggle—watching the way your fingers curl into fists. A part of him debates being nicer. You’re already struggling thanks to the ministrations of his magic, after all, and yet—

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

He reaffirms his grip on your hair—holding your head steady as he begins rolling his hips. He’s still not as fast as the tentacle devastating your pussy, but his slow pace is no more. No, he fucks you quick enough that you don’t have time to steel yourself for the sensation of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

So now, along with the wet, slapping sounds already filling the room, your frequent, helpless gagging can be heard as well.

To Solomon, it’s music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me “yes”. I can already see the answer with how much of your arousal my magic is collecting,” he says, breathing a laugh. “Seriously, you’re the one that should be ashamed, Y/N. You stand there and tease me for getting hard, but you’re the one positively leaking right now. Do you want to be even more stuffed? I could create a third tentacle if you like.”

“ _Nn—_ ,” you attempt to shake your head, tears finally rolling down your cheeks. You already feel like you’re going insane. There’s no way you’d be able to handle anything more than this.

Solomon grins at your response, purposely grinding into your mouth, and holding himself there. He watches as you flounder—body writhing against the bindings at your wrists. 

Even as you struggle to breathe, you can feel the orgasm building inside of you.

You choke down a sob.

Solomon’s magic is relentless. You have no idea how long it’s been—how long the tentacles have been teasing you—have been trying to milk you for all that you’re worth—but it’s been long enough to bring you to the edge once more. And each time Solomon forces you to gag around him, you only inch closer.

 _“Mmph_ ,” you whine pathetically around him, your body shaking as your pleasure continues to build to a peak. It won’t be long until you’re sent tumbling over the edge a second time, and once that happens, you’re not sure how much more you’ll be able to take. Your brain already feels like it’s on the verge of short-circuiting.

“This is a good look on you—,” he comments. Sweat has beaded on his brow—stray strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, and you’re mad that he still manages to appear so handsome despite his disheveled state.

“—ruined, and on the brink of orgasm. You’re going to cum again, right?”

Your noise of admission is lost around his cock as he continues fucking into your mouth. However, he doesn’t need to hear your agreement. He can already tell—what, with the way your eyes are practically ready to roll back into your head.

“You should wait for me,” he says, amusement tugging at his lips when he feels you whimper. “Can you manage that?”

Without waiting for your muffled attempt at a response, Solomon thrusts become rougher. He fucks into your throat, groaning at the way you instinctively gag and swallow around him. Saliva pools at the corners of your lips—slipping down to your chin and mingling with the tears that have fallen from your eyes.

You’re so overwhelmed. You’ve never experienced so many sensations at once, and while you try your best to hold out for Solomon—to be good, and wait for him like he’s requested—you can’t. It’s impossible.

With a strangled cry, you come undone. Your body thrashes, your head naturally attempting to pull away from Solomon for much needed air, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“Ah, if only you had waited a little longer,” he remarks, disappointment in his tone. He lowers his other hand to grab your head, and more tears pour down your cheeks as he face fucks you to his heart’s content—even as your orgasm continues to roll through you.

Luckily, the sorcerer isn’t very far behind. He finds his release just as your orgasm is beginning to subside, the tentacles that are assaulting you finally beginning to slow their ruthless pace. 

Gripping your hair, he forces himself deep into your throat—a dark satisfaction settling in his gut as he watches you choke on his seed.

“Swallow like a good girl,” he chides, one of his hands moving to wipe away your tears. As best you can, you swallow around him—puffy eyes turning up to him. The pleading look on your face successfully softens his heart, and with a sigh, he releases your head.

Immediately, you’re pulling back—coughing and gasping for air.

“P-Please, I can’t…anymore…,” you beg, voice raw. The tentacles have started picking up their pace once again--ready to resume their duty after having given you a few minutes to rest.

Solomon clicks his tongue, his silver gaze dropping to the mass of magic on the floor. There’s a fair amount of your “nectar” that has settled at the bottom of the orb. Enough that Solomon will be able to attempt his spell more than a few times.

So, with that in mind, he releases you.

The tentacle around your torso unwinds—your breasts feeling used, and sore from its touches. At the same time, the magic stuffing your pussy slowly pulls out—the limb soaking up whatever excess arousal you have to offer as it retreats.

Before long, the two tentacles have remerged with the ball of golden magic—the light from the spell circle fading as everything settles back into place. Once he’s sure that your precious juices are properly kept, Solomon waves his hand, and the magic binding your wrists disappears.

Almost instantly, you’re falling forward—catching yourself on your hands and knees, fingers smearing through intricately drawn chalk lines. Solomon kneels in front of you, brushing your hair from your eyes.

“You did well,” he says.

“You’re the worst,” you respond. 

Your entire body feels like jello. You’re not even sure there’s any blood left in your arms.

He chuckles.

“Fine, I’m the worst.”

Grabbing you beneath your arms, Solomon helps you to your feet, and leads you over to his bed. He throws the sheets over you, and then moves to retrieve the blob on the center of his floor. He gingerly places it on his desk—resting it atop a plush cushion, like a prized pet.

His eyes linger on it for a few seconds, satisfied. Then, his silver stare turns back to you—his sheets rustling as you settle yourself in.

There’s absolutely no way he’ll be kicking you out anytime soon. If you can barely walk to his bed with his help, there’s no chance that you’ll be able to walk all the way back to the House of Lamentation.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind your company. He’s got a heart inside of him, even if parts are stained black.

“I’ll go get some water,” he says. However, just as he’s brushing past the bed, there’s a knock at his door.

He pauses at the sound, and you hold his sheets tighter around your naked body.

Eyebrow raised curiously, Solomon strides to the door and pulls it open. Standing on the other side is a red-faced Simeon. He looks both angry, and embarrassed.

Solomon’s heart drops.

Despite all his preparation, he’d forgotten to enact a noise blocking spell…

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right,” Simeon responds, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky Barbatos agreed without question to teach Luke a new recipe despite me calling him last minute. Once I heard you and your partner… _going at it_. You live with a _child_ up the hall, Solomon.”

Solomon sighs. “I’m sorry. I meant to cast a spell to block the noise, but I forgot.”

“Next time, don’t forget, or I’ll have harsher words to say to you.”

“Very much noted.”

“Good.” Nodding, Simeon turns to stalk away from the wizard, but pauses.

“Oh, by the way, you mentioned inviting Y/N over this weekend. Are you still planning to do that? I’d love to see her.”

“Uhhh…,” Solomon resists the urge to glance back into his room, towards the bed where you’re currently hiding yourself. “Yeah. She should be over later. I’ll let you know when she gets here.”

“Good!”

Smiling, Simeon disappears up the hall. Solomon shuts his door, and from beneath his covers, you quietly scream.

“Simeon heard us fucking!! What’s wrong with you!!”

Again, Solomon sighs.

“Yes, yes, we already agreed—I’m the worst. Now pipe down, or I’ll have to shut you up again.”

When you actually cease your scolding words—glaring at him over the edge of his sheets—Solomon cocks an arrogant eyebrow.

Well then, he certainly knows the best way to get you to shut up from now on.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to everyone who continues to read and comment.
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to be follow me on tumblr @joonie-beanie. I've actually created an OM! MC of my own, named Bean, and have been writing some stuff for her (since it brings me joy, and serotonin is hard to come by nowadays).


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